WP1: ReichWorld
by Lilac Reverie
Summary: Wolfe Pack Series, Part One: At Journey's End, the Doctor accidentally left them in the wrong universe! Can they make it back to Pete's World before it's too late? TenB/Rose/Jackie
1. Darlig Ulv Stranded

_**A/N: **I know, I've promised everyone a finale to Alternating Universes, but it's not quite there yet; it needs to simmer a little longer. __In the meantime, I offer this diversion._

_Aaaaaaand, here I go again, with yet ANOTHER all-new vision of Rose-and-TenB-just-starting-out. I've no plans to turn this into a series, but that's what I said the last time, too... I guess we'll see if the muse sticks with this one._

_Disclaimer: Doctor Who and its characters are the property of the BBC, not me. Natürlich._

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**_Darlig Ulv_ Stranded**

Rose was reeling. _This can't be happening. This can't be real. He can't be leaving me here with this... substitute. Not after everything I've been through just to find him again!_ The entire scene felt surreal, like a bad dream. Even the gulls flying overhead were laughing at her. _Please let this be a dream. Let me wake up, back in Pete's mansion. Better yet, in the TARDIS._

But it wasn't a dream. The TARDIS began its mournful groaning, calling the Doctor and Donna back inside. He turned away and she ran after him, again... Trying desperately to find some way to make him stay, to make him admit how she _knew_ he must feel about her, deep inside. But he refused to say it.

But the other one would. "I love you, Rose. With all my heart."

_Heart_. Singular. _Together forever_, his so-familiar brown eyes seemed to be saying as he gazed so intently into her own.

Later, when she had time to reflect, she would wonder at her own impulse, pulling him in for a thorough snogging. Was it really him? Or maybe... was she actually trying to make _him_ jealous? She'd never know.

But it hadn't worked, anyway. The TARDIS door snapped shut with as final a click as she'd ever heard, and the beloved blue box _whooshed_ away into nothing, like it had never been, even as she broke away from the other Doctor to run after it – again. She knew, without a doubt, that it was truly the last time she'd ever see it.

She stood there on the beach where she'd stumbled to a halt, staring at the sand where her heart's desire had sat.

And then her eyes slowly refocused a dozen yards beyond it, on the sign which had been hidden by the TARDIS up till that moment. Even as she felt the other Doctor step up beside her, even as he took her hand – and hers turned in his automatically, returning the clasp as it had done a million times before. Even as she felt him gaze at her, willing her to turn and look back at him... she was unable to move, even twitch. An icy tidal wave of fear and horror swept over her.

It started as a hoarse whisper, but turned into a scream before three words were out. "No... no, NO, DOCTOR, _COME BACK!_

"_**YOU LEFT US IN THE WRONG BLOODY WORLD!"**_

She felt him jerk his head back around, and then he gasped, and she felt the shock zing through his slender frame at the sight; utterly, horribly anachronistic in either their own world or Pete's. Plastered on each corner with red and black swastikas, its dire message, thrice repeated in German, Norwegian, and English, read:

_**ATTENTION!  
THIS AREA IS FORBIDDEN  
YOU ARE ENTERING THE TERRITORY OF THE GERMAN REICH  
TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT**_

They waited, staring in shock, as Rose's wild scream echoed back from the cliffs... but the roar of the surf behind them and the cries of the gulls overhead were the only replies. The Doctor hadn't heard. The TARDIS was gone, irrevocably.

"Maybe... maybe it's an old sign left over from the war..." Jackie offered hopefully, breaking the tense silence.

"No, Mum. It's new. You can see it's new. I..." Rose swallowed, hard. "I've been in this world before, when I was crossing realities, looking for the... for home." The Doctor glanced at her, knowing the word she'd bitten back, but said nothing. "History went very differently in this world," she added unnecessarily. "The Nazis won World War Two – and they're still in control of most of northern Europe!"

Suddenly she shook herself, hard, and a second later dove into one of her cargo pants pockets, coming up with a mobile phone. Punching a couple of buttons, she held it to her ear. "Control? Are you there? Control!... Damn!" She looked at the screen again. "Too far away. Mum, try your transport disk!"

"Rose... the walls are closed!" the Doctor put in, but she ignored him.

Jackie pulled two disks out of her pocket and checked them both quickly, then shook her head. "No signal."

"How'd you get two?"

"Mickey gave me his."

Rose thought a second, then said quickly, "Give one to him, he'll need it."

"Rose!" He finally got her attention, even as he took the proffered disk and stuffed it into a pocket. "The walls are closed! It's no good!"

"What walls?"

"Wha... the..." he spluttered at her obtuseness. "...the walls between realities! The dimensional retroclosure, remember?"

"So?" she asked belligerently, then held up a hand to stop his further explosion. "I was jumping between worlds for _weeks_, _long_ before the reality bomb started putting out the stars. The dimensional cannon doesn't depend on the holes from the bomb, it goes through the Cornish rift! – Thanks for asking, by the way." Her tone wasn't _quite_ sarcastic.

"It does?" His jaw dropped, then he blinked. "You mean Cardiff?"

"No, Cornish. Same rift, but it's in St Ives, in Pete's World – and this one. But we're way out of range up here in Norway. We've got to be within a few miles at most, maybe right on top of it. Which means we've got to cross hundreds of miles of Nazi-occupied territory." She looked at the hated sign again. "First thing, though, is we've got to get off this beach before a patrol comes by. They're not kidding! Come on!" And, turning, she led them on a quick-march to the start of the road up the cliffs, the only way to access the beach aside from boat – or TARDIS.

A quarter of a mile past the cliffs, they spotted a lonely, ancient wooden shack back off the road and angled for it. A few yards from the sagging porch, the front door opened, and the trio suddenly found themselves staring down the barrel of an equally ancient shotgun, held by an equally ancient, weathered man in a heavy sweater and fisherman's cap, his faded grey eyes filled with suspicion. They halted in a row in the yard, their hands up in the air.

The Doctor opened his mouth, but Rose beat him to it. "Please – vennligst! Help us! Darlig ulv! Darlig ulv!"

"Rose..." he said out of the corner of his mouth. "I think he knows where he lives..."

"Shut up!" she hissed back, and began to go back to her pleading, when from the distance behind them they caught the sound of motors. Whirling around, they spied a German troop truck a mile down the road. The patrol was on its way.

Rose whirled back and took a step forward. "Vennligst! Darlig ulv!" She didn't try to hide her fear or desperation.

The old man glanced back at the truck, then at her face – and suddenly lowered his shotgun, turning and motioning them inside, quickly! They scuttled past him, and in less than a minute found themselves hiding in a cold, dark earthen cellar beneath a hidden trap door.

"Underneath a throw rug? That's the oldest trick in the book," muttered the Doctor.

"Yeah," breathed Rose, "because sometimes it works!"

He glanced sharply at her, about to ask how she'd know – or, for that matter, what that business about Bad Wolf Bay was – when the roar from the troop truck suddenly burst into the yard, followed by screeching brakes, and then the sound of several pairs of boots pounding across the wooden porch. They crouched down, huddled together, their hands seeking each other's without thought – Jackie grabbing the Doctor's right hand as naturally as Rose did the left.

A rather one-sided conversation went on overhead, one voice shouting in German while the old man replied in grunts and single syllables, while several other pairs of boots stomped quickly through the small house, searching. Miraculously, the throw rug trick worked this time, as the soldiers stomped right across it several times without stopping. After a few minutes, the boots retreated and the truck roared off again. The old man waited for a seemingly endless (to those waiting below) fifteen minutes to make sure they weren't doubling back before he moved the rug again. He didn't come down the stairs empty-handed, but brought a pitcher of water, a loaf of black bread and a hunk of cheese, as well as an oil lantern, which he sat carefully down on one of the several wooden crates in the cellar.

He lit the lamp and turned it down low, then peered into each of their faces. "Engelsk?" he asked. "English?"

"Ja," Rose replied. "We need to get back to England. Can you help us?"

It took a few repetitions, with some sign language, but he finally understood. He pulled at his lip, mulling it over, then asked once more, "Darlig ulv?"

"Ja. Darlig ulv."

Making up his mind, he gave her a sharp nod, then pointed at a couple of other crates and rattled off some Norwegian. He looked sharply at Rose and made 'stay put' motions with his hands, and she nodded that she understood; they were to stay hidden in the cellar. With that, he went back up the ladder, and they heard him flip the rug over the top of the trap door, then his footsteps went back out the door and disappeared off the porch.

Jackie opened the crates he'd pointed out, finding a range of warm, used clothing and some equally thick blankets. "I guess we're going to be staying here for a while."

The Doctor cornered Rose. "OK, Rose. What's going on here? What's with the bad wolf?"

She looked straight back at him. "It's a code name, for the Resistance. I told you I was here before. I learned a few things. Including the fact that I must have sent that phrase further afield than we thought. The Bad Wolf is a very famous fairy tale in this world, bigger than King Arthur and Beowulf. That's why the Resistance uses it."

"And you're tapping into the Resistance network to get us to St Ives?" She nodded. "How did you know he was part of it?"

Rose shrugged. "I didn't. It was worth a chance. The only chance we had." Suddenly exhausted, she went over and sat on a crate next to the food. "Come on, I'm starving. Let's not shame our host by refusing his generosity."

Some time later, Rose found herself watching the Doctor through her eyelashes. He'd fallen still and silent, staring at the uneaten hunk of bread in his hand with a lost look haunting his eyes.

"Hey," she said softly. "You OK?"

He looked solemnly at her for a long pause. "I was just realizing..." he finally admitted, his voice softer and more subdued than she'd ever heard it. "That sign down there... I could only read the English. And I couldn't understand what the old man, or the soldiers were saying."

She nodded, instantly understanding. "No translator."

"No translator," he agreed, then made himself say it. "The TARDIS is gone. I'll never see her again. Ever."

"I'm sorry..."

Slowly, the Doctor shook his head, then reached out, asking for her hand, which she gave him almost automatically, without reservation. He deliberately intertwined his fingers with hers – a new clasp, not their habit of old – and held on tightly, gazing intently into her eyes. "I'll be OK," he whispered. _As long as we're together,_ his eyes added.

She couldn't handle making any commitment past the raw, aching wound in her chest, but she didn't pull away, either. He understood, and after a beat, eased back, relaxing his grip and looking back at the bread he still held, taking a bite as their hands sank down to hang between them. When she pulled her hand out a minute later to get a drink of water, he forced himself not to clutch at it. _One step at a time,_ he told himself.

"Well," he said, forcing his voice to take a brighter tone. "Assets. Let's see what we have. You understand the situation on the ground, at least, and have some contacts within the Resistance, I take it?" She nodded. "So we're not walking around blindly. That's good. The Cardiff Rift – sorry, Cornish – is active in this world?" Another nod. "So all we need to do is get there. And we have your phone, and these transport disks, when we do get there. And we also have... this!" He reached into a pocket with a small, almost shy grin, pulling out a sonic screwdriver. Rose gasped, and he grinned wider, then shook his head. "No, it's not his. It was a spare, that I pulled out to use to put that weapon together I tried to use on Davros. Let's see... Anything else?"

Jackie shook her head, but Rose was suddenly pensive. She got up abruptly, walked over and stared up the ladder, hugging herself.

"Rose?" His voice was soft, puzzled.

"We do have one other ace up our sleeve," she finally began. "It's how I got out of here last time. But I'm not using it unless it's _absolutely necessary._" She turned back and looked across the cellar at them, her face an unreadable mask in the gloom.

"Rose Tyler does exist in this world. And she's a Nazi bitch."


	2. On Wolves and Rings

**On Wolves and Rings**

They stayed in the old man's cellar for three days, sleeping on the crates and coming upstairs only after dark for brief walks under the moonless skies. The Nazi patrols were too frequent to risk them staying above ground for any length of time; the truck went roaring by four or five times a day, and stopped for a quick search as often as it passed. Apparently, they either suspected him of something, or just liked to harass the seemingly harmless old fisherman.

The first morning after their arrival, sitting on the crates they'd slept on to get off the cold floor, the Doctor asked Rose what she knew about the history of the world they'd found themselves in. She gave him an amused glare, answering, "I didn't exactly stop and take a world history class!" More serious, she shook her head. "I don't know very much, actually. I'm under the impression, though, that World War Two happened much more recently here than in our world. I think it only ended a few years ago – but I have no idea when it began or how long it lasted.

"I know that the Reich controls most of northern Eurasia, from Ireland straight across to Siberia. And that most of the rest of the world is divided up into a handful of large supercountries taking up whole continents in response – everybody basically banded together with their neighbors to keep the Nazis out. They told me the names... let's see if I can remember them. Ummm..." She began ticking them off on her fingers. "There's Greater America, Confederacion de America Latina, the Empire of the Sun – that's Japan, China, and the rest of eastern Asia – and Afrique-Unis, the Ottoman Empire covering the Middle East, and... I think there's a few countries like India and Australia still on the loose."

"So is there a worldwide cold war?"

She thought, then shook her head. "I think Greater America is the main one opposing the Reich – like the US and Russia in our world. I'm pretty sure they're the only other ones with nukes."

"The Reich has nuclear bombs? That's not good."

She gazed at him solemnly for several long seconds, then quietly told them, "That's how the war ended. They got nukes just before the US did, and they're the ones who dropped them. On London."

"London!" gasped Jackie, while the Doctor looked gut-punched.

Rose glanced at her Mum, sitting close beside her and wrapped in the same heavy blanket for warmth. "It doesn't exist any more. The whole city is a wasteland – a no-man's-land a hundred miles across. Birmingham is the puppet capital."

While they were absorbing this dreadful news, the trap door suddenly opened, and the old man brought down a scrap of paper and pencil along with their cold breakfast, carefully pronouncing the request he'd apparently memorized the English words for phonetically. "Navn – names... for travel papers. Vennligst – please."

Looking quickly at the others, Rose managed to convey that they would give him the names later; he seemed to grasp they needed to come up with some aliases, and went back up the ladder.

"Why not our own names?" Jackie wanted to know, and Rose shot her a level look.

"Because they're known in some places, Mum. It's not safe." Not wanting to answer any questions about that just now, she swiveled to the Doctor. "And forget about 'John Smith', too, Doctor. It was such a common alias that it guarantees you extra scrutiny at any checkpoint. You'll need to come up with something else."

He shrugged, nodding. "That's OK, I'm tired of 'John Smith'. Plus, I've been thinking... I think I should take a human-style name, anyway. Permanently, I mean. I haven't come up with anything, though." He grinned at both women. "I could use some help in that department. Are there any names you particularly like?"

Jackie sensed he really was after her daughter's opinion rather than hers, and just shook her head, smiling. Rose, however, was gazing at him, unexpectedly serious. Finally, she seemed to make up her mind, and took the three steps to his crate. Startling him by putting her hands on his knees as she knelt between them, she gazed up into his eyes from inches away.

"Tell me your real name," she whispered. He didn't need telepathy to know she was asking for so much more than the name alone. _How much do you __really__ trust me?_

He didn't have to think about it. He covered her hands with his own and spoke the syllables aloud for the first time in centuries.

She sucked in a long, careful breath, tears prickling. "Thank you," she replied simply. Then she blinked, and shook her head, a tiny grin teasing the corner of her mouth. It had been a LOT of syllables. "That's worse than Raxacoricofallapatorius!"

He smothered a snort, trying to keep his face straight. "Try saying it when you're drunk! Now you know why I went by the Doctor, instead!"

That hooked the grin out, along with a giggle, which netted her one in return. Then, replaying it mentally with a look of figuring out a puzzle, she took a deep breath. "Say it again – _slowly."_

He only got the first two syllables out before she threw up her hand, stopping him. "Jer-red?" she repeated.

"Ye-es," he nodded exaggeratedly, then prepared to go on, teaching it to her a couple of syllables at a time, but she stopped him again with a shake of her head.

"Jared! It's a name, Doctor, an actual, proper English man's name!"

"It is?" He looked over at Jackie for confirmation, and she nodded, grinning. "Oh!" He stared across the room, testing it silently on his tongue.

"Well?" Rose pressed him. When he still looked iffy, she laughed. "Look, you don't have to decide on your permanent new name right now. You can try it out while we're here, and if you don't like it, when we get back home, you can take another one." Seeming to realize she was still on her knees, she pushed herself up and twisted around, settling on the crate right next to him, and he quickly tucked his blanket – and his arm – around her.

"Do _you_ like it?" he asked.

She considered, then nodded. "Yeah. It's a good name." That seemed to settle it, and she went on. "You need a last name, too."

He stopped her with a grin. "Already got one picked out, thanks. Not Smith." Eyes twinkling, he dared her to ask, and after a beat she gave in.

"OK, what?"

"Wolfe. With an E."

Surprised, pleased, she actually blushed, then nodded again. "Jared Wolfe. OK. I like it." A bit uncomfortable, she turned away to look across at Jackie. "What about you, Mum?"

Jackie considered. "Well... I've always liked the name Camille. Camille... Johnson. Is Johnson OK?"

"As far as I know!" Rose nodded. "Camille Johnson."

"What about you, sweetheart? Should we still be mother and daughter?"

"Yeah, I think we should. Otherwise, I know I'd blow it by calling you Mum automatically at the worst possible moment." She stared up at the dingy ceiling for a moment. "Aaah. Shereen. For my old mate. I wonder how her life is going?" she added irrelevantly with a soft snort.

"Well, I'm certain of one thing: less exciting than yours!" Jackie came back. "Shereen Johnson, then?"

"Ye – no." Rose took a quick breath, looking sideways at Jared's shirt, not up to meet his eyes. "Shereen Wolfe."

Eyebrows flaring, he tilted his head forward, catching her eyes anyway and holding them. "I'll have to find you a ring," was his only comment.

A beat, and she just smiled, half shy, half sly.


	3. Something Fishy

**Something Fishy**

Late that afternoon, the trio unexpectedly heard not one, but two pairs of footsteps crossing the floor above them. They tensed as the rug was flung back and the trap door opened, but the old man climbed first down the ladder, saw their faces and reassured them. The second man was a younger version of the first, his face lined and weathered from endless days on the sea. He stared closely at each in turn; they waited silently for him to speak first.

Surprisingly, it was in fairly good English, with a distinctly Scots accent. "An' what are ye doin' so far from home, then?"

Jared spoke up, putting on his own highland accent and giving the story they'd agreed on earlier – for at least the first part of their journey. "My wife's mam was from London," he began, indicating Jackie with a dip of his head, "before the bomb. They were away at the time, visitin' her husband's relatives up in Trondheim, so there they stayed. Now he's passed on, and she's comin' to live wi' us in Edinburgh."

"An' how did ye end up here, back o' beyond?"

"We were to be picked up on yon beach, but they ne'er made it." He shut his mouth on any further details, like a good underground railroad traveler.

The man's eyes narrowed further, smelling something fishy, and not just his clothes. But he couldn't find a reason to turn down such obvious foreigners, with such a patent need to stay out of the authorities' hands. Whoever they were, the sooner they were on their way, the better. "An' do ye have money to pay for the passage?"

"No, it was all ta'en by the others. But I can get more when we reach Scotland." _Hopefully my sonic still works on this world's cash machines._

"If ye've no cash now, then ye must work the passage. I run a fishing boat out of Bergen, and can take ye to meet another out of Aberdeen halfway across. Will ye work the lines?"

As they had no choice, they couldn't refuse, so they each nodded. Then the fisherman's eyes picked out Jackie. "Ye'll never do for a linesman. Can ye cook? Ye can work in the galley."

"How long is the trip?"

"Depends on the fish. Could be five days. Could be two weeks. Can't turn west until the hold is full." He grinned suddenly at their dismay, though they tried to hide it. "We sail in two days. I'll come for ye tomorrow night."

^..^

The fish must have been running well, because Captain Thorsen turned west after only six days, his holds bulging with silvery cod and whitefish. Rose was too exhausted to care. Even with his usual crew of six, there was so much work to be done every minute that each of them got only six hours of sleep per night, and were running at full steam the rest of the day – including Jackie. Jared's gob miraculously shut after the first few hours; he was as glad as the two women to stagger across the makeshift gangplank over to the next boat, barely glancing at the icy, swirling waves inches below his feet.

Luckily, the holds of the Mairie Culloden were already full, and Captain Macrae immediately turned for Aberdeen. One look at his new passengers and he waved them below, grinning. A boy came running at his shout to show them a set of empty bunks; they fell into them and were asleep literally the moment their heads hit the pads – no pillows. They slept without moving for sixteen hours.

They woke in time to help with the offloading – nonchalantly walking right past the bored port inspectors – and casually climbed aboard the truck previously (quietly) identified by Captain Macrae. The driver got in a few minutes later, nodded silently at them, and drove off the docks. He took a detour on the way to the cannery, dropping them off at a noisy portside pub with a name: Ian.

Ian proved to be the bartender, and was also expecting them. He nodded them up the stairs to the boardinghouse above, with the key to number three. This came with two beds and a private bathroom, and for a few minutes, it looked like a serious battle was about to commence for the first privilege, but then Rose backed down and Jared deferred, so Jackie slipped into a heavenly hot bath, promising to be out in fifteen minutes. She took twenty, but they were still too exhausted to care.

Finally free of the stench of fish ("I may never eat fish and chips again!" Rose moaned, as the others nodded in sympathy), back into their own clothes (the ones they'd been living in nonstop since putting them on in the old man's cellar now piled in a filthy, stinking heap), the trio set to the hearty supper brought up by Ian an hour later with the best appetites they could ever remember having. Ian took away the pile of clothes, saying they'd be washed and returned to them the next day. Jared asked where a cash machine might be; there was one only two blocks away. He slipped out and was happy to find his sonic did indeed work on it; withdrawing an only slightly unreasonable amount, he gave a decent chunk of it to Ian both for his own trouble, and to send back to the two Captains.

To both women's undying gratitude, he also popped into the tiny shop that caught his eye on the way back, bringing in not one but _four_ different kinds of skin lotion. "Oi! Save some for me!" he whinged as they fell to, holding out his rough, red, rope-burned and water-tortured hands in a transparent ploy for sympathy. It worked. Rose, tsking and aww-ing, slathered them with cool, vitamin-enriched lotion, and then dabbed his wind-and-sun-burned cheeks with facial over his (strictly pro forma) protests. He then brought out his other two prizes: a bottle of aspirin for their aching muscles, and an indulgent box of chocolates. They were hard pressed to decide which was more welcome.

Free now of the need to stay strictly hidden, though they were still cautious of the ubiquitous soldiery, Rose and Jared decided to go for a walk that evening, strolling hand-in-hand through the nearby streets and browsing shop windows. The city – that part of it, anyway – seemed subdued; some shops were empty, most windows less than full, and the people just a bit less than their usual openly friendly selves. Jared mused quietly that the long occupation had taken its toll on the people and the commerce, but not as badly as he'd been afraid of, out here on the fringes of the empire.

When they returned, Ian followed them up the stairs and slipped inside their room. "You're heading on to Edinburgh, yeah?"

"Actually," Jared hedged, glancing at the other two, "our final destination is Cornwall. However much help you give us we'd be grateful for, though."

"Cornwall, eh? Well, that puts a different light on it. I canna get ye past Edinburgh." He thought a moment, then nodded. "Let me see what I can do. Get a good night's sleep, but be ready to pull out tomorrow."

The following morning he served them breakfast, with three bus tickets to a small town on the moor half a day south. They were met at the tiny station by a man in a tweed jacket and matching hat, who, as arranged, greeted them with – just loud enough for the nearby official to overhear without having to be obvious about it – "Ye're down from the Aberdeen agency, then?"

They nodded, and he led them towards a large station car. "New help, then, Mr Reed?" asked the official.

Reed gave a snort. "Can't seem to keep 'em more than a fortnight any more. Hope this lot's got more stomach for it."

As they pulled out of the town and headed for the countryside, Reed turned and smiled. "Harald Reed. Ye're bound for Cornwall?"

Jared nodded, returning the smile, and gave their aliases. "Camille is comin' down to live with us, but we couldn't travel on the public routes."

Reed nodded. "Not many can. We see a fair bit o' traffic. I canna send ye the whole way, but I can send ye to the next station." He went on, telling them he was the butler at the nearby MacLaren Estate, whose laird turned a blind eye to the constant minor turnover in the hired help. "Ye'll not be needed to actually work; it so happens we're sending a large shipment of game birds down to the Glasgow packers tomorrow. It won't be a comfortable trip, but it'll get ye on your way. My contact at the packers will send ye on further." He chattered on a bit, telling them they'd no informers on the estate, but "best ye keep to your rooms tonight. I'll be putting you up in the carriage house, the old groomsmen's quarters. They're mostly unused these days, so you can keep out of everyone's way there. My wife is the housekeeper; she'll send some supper down, and I'll send a boy for ye in the morning."

They thanked him warmly, and quickly got out of the car when he paused by the carriage house, on the far side from the main house across the lawns, Jared pressing a couple of bills into his palm as he shook hands. Reed glanced at them and nodded appreciatively, then pointed to the inside. "Upstairs with ye, then, last doors on the left."

They scuttled inside the door, but as they were crossing to the stairs, Jared glanced out the windows on the far side and stopped cold, then crossed over to peer closer. "Rose... do you know where we are?"

Rose walked swiftly over to peer out the window beside him. He turned to leer at her, and she held up a hand to stop him saying it, pained amusement closing her eyes. "Just tell me it's not a full moon tonight, OK?" He cracked up at that, with Rose a beat behind, Jackie rolling her eyes at their misplaced levity.

Through the windows could be seen the unmistakable silhouette of what, in another world, had been called Torchwood Manor.


	4. Moonlit Revelations

**Moonlit Revelations**

As it was already late in the day, the promised supper was sent down within the hour, then the trio retired to separate rooms to rest and clean up. Rose had followed Jackie into one of the rooms when they'd arrived with a quick, apologetic glance, leaving the other room for Jared. He understood. _Down, boy. Slow, _he told himself for the umpteenth time.

A couple of hours later, though, restless and bored, he knocked softly on their door. Jackie opened it with the news that Rose had slipped outside for a bit of fresh air a while before, promising not to go too far. He padded quietly down the stairs and out the side door after her, but there was no sign. Flipping a mental coin, he turned right and followed the walls around to the back side of the carriage house, out of sight from the main buildings. Turning the corner, he spied her leaning against the stone outer wall in a tiny alcove, arms wrapped around her torso, staring up at the quarter moon. Too dark for him to make out her expression, he halted a few feet away and whispered, "Rose?"

She jumped and shot a startled glance at him before turning abruptly away, sniffing hard and wiping at her face with one hand. When she didn't turn back or speak, he stepped closer, pleading, "Don't shut me out. Whatever you're thinking, or feeling, please tell me, even if it's hurtful. Please, Rose."

Finally, she looked back at him, her tragic eyes melting his heart. Then she sniffed again, and started talking to the stars, obviously struggling for a normal tone. "I was just wondering... which one of us was meant to be the consolation prize for the other. Me for the TARDIS, or you for..."

She stopped, and he supplied it, though the word was a dagger in his chest. "Him." Her gaze fell to the ground, and he went on, forcefully. "Well, if it has to be one of us, then it must be me, because you are _not_ a consolation prize, you're _the_ prize – and I don't mean that in a sexist way. You think he kicked me out? No, I jumped ship, because wherever you are, that's where I want to be, TARDIS be damned. Rose, I _love_ you, more than _anything._"

Her head was already shaking no, and she stopped him with a look. "How can I believe you? If you're _him_... how can I trust you? … He _dumped_ me, like a... a _stray dog_." Her emotions had pulled her around to face him fully, and she flung her arms out sideways, questioning. "Is that what he does? Is that how he operates? He picks us up and carries us along for a while, like... like _pets_, and then just dumps us off somewhere when we're no longer convenient?"

He tried to break in, "No!", but she rolled on, relentless. "And if one of us tries to get back on board, it's... _'oh, sorry, your ticket's already been punched, you're past your expiration date!_'" She scoffed. "He'd already gone through _two_ companions after me. Two! Including Miss 'Best Friends and Equals'! How many _has_ he had? Did either one of them know _my_ name?"

Finally he broke in. "Yes, Rose, they _both_ did – and Martha left because of you. Because he couldn't see her for seeing your ghost."

She scoffed again, stopping him, then said quietly. "That's easy for you to say – and I'm not saying you're lying... but I'm still standing here – in the wrong world, no less." A beat, then she repeated, helplessly, "How can I trust you?"

He gazed sadly at her as the truth of her words washed over him. Finally, he shook his head. "You can't. You've got no reason to, not now. All I can do is ask you, _beg_ you, to give me a chance. A chance to earn your trust, and win your love. Please, Rose. I swear... I'm not going _anywhere_, except where you lead. And I'll do _anything_ to keep you safe, and make you happy. Even..." Reaching mentally for a memory, his mouth quirked at his catch. "Even get a job and a mortgage, and buy you a house with carpet – and doors."

If he had hoped to lighten the mood, it didn't work. Instead, her face twisted again, and she looked away. "You've really got _all_ his memories, then?"

He considered a moment. "As far as I know. At least, I'm not sure I'd really know if there were any gaps, but I don't think there are. I'm quite sure I remember every moment he... I... ever spent with you, right up to the moment he diverted the excess energy into the hand. I don't know what happened to him after that – "

A thought suddenly struck him, and he broke off, gasping, gazing off past her head into the middle distance of memory and idea.

"What?" she asked sharply.

"I... was just thinking..."

"Well, think out loud, dammit! Don't shut me out, either! I need to hear it..." she pleaded.

He brought his attention back, hastily agreeing, "All right, I will..." His hands had reached automatically to soothe her, but he hesitated, not knowing if she'd welcome the touch. She noticed, her eyes flicking at his hands then back to his face, but said nothing. She didn't exactly encourage him, but neither did she flinch away, so he resumed the reach and gently touched her upper arms with just his fingertips.

"That last memory," he began haltingly, "was so full of emotion. The reason he diverted the energy was because he didn't want to change away from the body – the man – that you loved, that you'd come back to. But I wondered if somehow... without meaning to, I'm certain... if somehow he transferred all the love to the hand, to _me_, as well. And I ended up with the lion's share of it. And if he knew it, if he realized it after, that may have been part of why... he did what he did." He shrugged. "I don't know... it's just a crazy idea. All I know is... I love you, Rose. I love you so much. I'll follow you anywhere." His hands had slipped onto her arms, gripping gently. "Please, Rose. Please give me a chance? That's all I'm asking for. No commitment more than that."

Her eyes slowly filled with tears again as she stared into his, then finally, she simply nodded. "OK." He began to sag with relief, when suddenly she flung her arms around his shoulders, as she had done a thousand times before, and they held each other close, ignoring the tears streaking down each face.

He held her, so tightly, so close, so precious, as the moonlight slowly drifted across the nook, their pale shadows on the wall shifting several inches. Without conscious design, their heads shifted, and their lips met again for the first time since the beach. Slowly exploring these new sensations, they tasted each other again and again, and, liking what they found, pressed on, while the heat gradually rose within.

Suddenly he broke away, pulling his head back and gasping for air. _No respiratory bypass system_ flittered irrelevantly through his mind_. I'll have to remember that._

"Don't stop," she pleaded softly.

He looked back down into her eyes again, half afraid. "Rose... if I don't stop now, I won't stop," he warned huskily.

"Don't stop," she immediately repeated. She watched the realization of what she was asking reflect in his eyes. "I _need_ this. I need to know..."

"What?"

"That I'm more than just a friend to you, a companion. I need to know that you see me as a _woman,_ not a... a _pet._" She deliberately chose the shocking word she'd discovered earlier.

"I _do..._" His voice was raw, aching.

"Then _prove it."_ Half challenge, half desperate plea.

He started to lean in to kiss her again, but then stopped cold. _Very_ cold. "Against a freezing stone wall, outside in the cold night? I don't think so." Stepping back, he ran his hands down her arms and took both her hands in his. "Come here... Come inside..."

She let him pull her forward, then he turned with her, slipped his arm back around her, and led her to his room.

^..^

"_Jared?"_ Her voice a few hours later was the softest whisper, more breath stirring the hair on his naked chest than sound waves reaching his ears. He pitched his voice to match.

"_Yes?"_

"_I... I need you to promise me something."_

He never hesitated. _"Anything."_

"_About... the anger? The violence?"_ Her palm rested on his chest above his single heart, making her meaning clear. He took a breath to reply, but her fingers moved instantly to his lips, silencing him. _"No.. let me finish."_ He nodded.

She spoke slowly, feeling her way. _"I need to know that... whatever direction you go in after we get back... home..."_ He noted the shift in her wording, unspoken acknowledgment that Pete's World was home now. But she was continuing... _"... that you'll hang on to them until then."_ He blinked, frowning. That was NOT what he'd been expecting.

"_I need you to promise me that you'll do whatever is necessary to keep me – and Mum – from being captured by the Nazis."_

He stared up at the ceiling, almost invisible in the darkness after moonset, utterly nonplussed. _"Why does that scare you so much? You faced Daleks, Cybermen... you were their prisoner, and you never flinched."_

She took several soft breaths before she was able to reply. _"Daleks and Cybermen... don't routinely gang-rape their female prisoners." _A beat, while that concept, completely out of left field, washed through his shocked brain. _"That's what happened to the Jackie of this world. She and Pete were working for the Resistance. But they... they were betrayed by an informant, and captured. Pete escaped after a few days, rescued by the Resistance, but they couldn't get to Jackie. She..."_ Rose buried her face in his shoulder for a moment, then forced herself on, brokenly. _"She died after... ten straight days... chained to a bed in an Army barracks. They didn't even feed her..."_

Jared gasped slowly, icy horror swamping his skin. He tightened his arms around her torso, hugging her even closer, but she suddenly raised herself up on one elbow, her huge, solemn, frightened eyes staring into his in the gloom. _"I need you to promise me that you'll do whatever it takes_,_"_ she repeated, _"to make sure that doesn't happen to me or Mum. Even if it means saving the last two bullets."_

His head shook involuntarily. _"I don't think I can kill you, Rose."_ Quickly, before she could speak, he put took her head in both his hands, tenderly. _"But I promise... I swear... that I will not let them take you. Either of you. I swear it, Rose..."_

She stared back, gauging his sincerity. Hating herself for asking, as much as she hated the necessity behind it, _"And you'll fight them off if we're cornered? Instead of automatically surrendering, like y – like he always did?"_

Another deep breath, as a hundred memories of frantically surrendering to overwhelming odds in hopes of finding a way to escape later crashed through his head. He nodded, knowing that even though that escape had always come before, it might not again here, and might not come in time for her or Jackie if it did. _"I swear it. They'll never touch you. Never."_

Accepting his anguished promise, she leaned over and kissed him deeply, tenderly. Gratefully. Then she settled back down on his chest again, listening to the single beat of his heart.

Suddenly another memory popped into his head, a more recent one. _"Hang on... you said... you said the Rose of this world was a Nazi..."_

He felt her flinch, felt her face crumple against his skin, felt the splash of a single tear. A long, silent sob, before the soul-chilling answer came, whispered into the dark.

"_She was the informant who betrayed them..."_


	5. Same Face, Different Person

**Same Face, Different Person**

The following morning, Jared and Rose knocked softly on the other bedroom door, then opened it to find Jackie huddled on one of the two beds, tear tracks adding punctuation to her lost, frightened expression. Her face crumpled as Rose dashed across to gather her up, the tears coming faster. "It's all right, Mum, I swear. I'm going to get you home safe. I promise, Mum, I promise," Rose murmured over and over, rocking Jackie back and forth in the reversal of their birth roles. Watching, Jared was struck by how strong and mature Rose had become in the few short years he'd known her – and even more so since their separation. That she hadn't also become hard and heartless was quite possibly miraculous.

Her tears finally slowing, Jackie pulled back a bit to look her daughter in the face. "For the record," she snuffled, "You were right. I shouldn't have come after you. I'm not cut out for this. I just want to go home..."

"You will, Mum. I _swear_ it. I'll – _we'll _have you back home to Pete and Tony just as fast as we can."

Jared had taken the last steps, too, and perched on the edge of the mattress. He put a hand on Jackie's shoulder, silently nodding his promise, too. She looked at him seriously for a beat, then told them with quiet steel, "Please don't take this personally, Jared, you know I don't mean you. But I think I hate the Doctor more now than I did when he disappeared with my girl for a whole year and then just waltzed back in like nothing had happened." She turned back to Rose. "And you wouldn't explain, neither of you – and then you just went off again with him. And kept doing it. And even kept chasing him from Pete's World. And look what happened. He just waltzed off again, and didn't even check to make sure he had the right world."

This was coming much too close to the wound in Rose's heart. She looked beyond her Mum, staring at the wall and biting her lip – but she didn't argue, and didn't turn away.

It was Jared who turned, moving abruptly across to stand by the window, staring motionless out through the lace curtains at his own tortured thoughts. The conversation didn't really resume behind him; there was nothing more to say.

A short time later he felt her presence beside him, her warm hand creeping into his own. He glanced down at them, and changed the clasp to intertwine their fingers again, wanting to set his own stamp on things. Same, but different. When he finally looked into her eyes, she gave him a tiny nod to acknowledge it.

Wanting a bit of a diversion, she reached into her curiosity. "Teach me to say your real name. Please? I want to learn it."

She'd somehow put her finger right on the pulse of his thoughts. Taking a sudden deep breath, he shook his head, the decision crystallizing at that moment. At the idea which appeared on its heels, he dug into his pockets, coming up with a scrap of paper (the shop receipt for the lotion two days before) and a pencil. He turned and pulled her back over to the beds, pushing her gently onto the one across from Jackie and kneeling down beside tiny table between them. With both of them watching in puzzlement over his shoulder, he silently scribbled out a very long word – his real name, they realized from the first few letters. A beat, and then he also wrote "Doctor" underneath it, impulsively underscoring each name twice. Then, looking at each of them to check their comprehension, he pulled a book of matches out of his pocket, lit one, and then picked up the scrap and set it alight, watching it burn to ashes.

"From this moment on, those aren't my names. I'm Jared Wolfe." He looked directly at Rose. "Don't ever call me Doctor again. That's _him_, not me."

She nodded solemnly, gently touching his shoulder.

He looked the other way and collected Jackie's nod, too. Then she focused in on Rose's left hand on his shoulder for a moment, then dropped her eyes to her own hands. Carefully slipping her wedding rings off her finger, she separated out the plain gold band and held it across the gap to Rose. "This is a _loan_, mind – I want it back when we get home."

Rose blushed, then reached for the proffered piece of her disguise – but Jackie pulled her hand back at the last second, then handed the ring to Jared, instead. He took it, his expression misty, then turned to look his love at Rose, taking her hand and slipping it on her finger. Neither spoke a word. A long, double heartbeat – and then she leaned over and kissed him tenderly.

Jackie sighed. "I wish we had some champagne!" That broke the couple up, laughing, and Jared lurched to his feet – leaning over and smooching Jackie's cheek on his way up.

Before another word was said, the boy was knocking on the door to stow them away in the truck that was to carry them on the next leg of their journey.

^..^

So they worked their way south, skirting the west coast, by truck and van, sailboat and fishing smack. And on foot, hiking between the northern shore of Morecambe Bay and the southern reach of the Lake District Park when no other means of transportation was found. Were it not for the dark edge of time looming over their shoulders, and the necessity of dodging Nazi patrols, it might have been the happiest weeks of their lives.

The closer they got to the city, though, the edgier they all became – and so did their continuing guides on their underground railroad. They holed up for two days in a tiny, dingy flat over an old warehouse on the outskirts of Manchester, waiting for a higher-ranking member of the Resistance to come inspect them and decide what to do with them.

Finally, on the third afternoon, a clatter from the ancient lift announced the chief's arrival. "Ho," their unwilling host-cum-jailer exclaimed. "Now I'll get you lot off my hands. Red Wolf's here." He nipped out the door to greet the newcomers – just missing seeing all the blood drain from Rose's face.

"Oh, _shit!"_ she hissed, and whirled around. "Mum... I'm sorry.. _shit!_ Please, Mum, just... stay back there out of sight until I talk to him. Don't come out until I call you! And remember, Mum... remember where we are."

Jackie backed away behind the door into the bedroom, utterly mystified – but she'd been impressed enough by her daughter's new-found authority not to stop and question her. Still muttering curse words, Rose turned back to face the front door, avoiding Jared's eyes, just in time for it to open again and let in several large, obviously dangerous men.

And in the lead, with the unmistakable air of the alpha male wolf, was Pete Tyler.

He stopped dead at the sight of Rose, his face blanching as white as hers had been a moment before. Then, to Jared's and Jackie's (peeking through the doorway) horror, he pulled out a large pistol from behind his back, and pointed it directly between her eyes.

Her hands flew up into the air in surrender, but her mouth was moving, too. "Pete! It's me! The other Rose, from the parallel world! Look, see?" She tilted her head far to one side, baring the other side of her neck. "No scar! It's me!"

Pete took a deep, shuddering breath, his hand wavering... but it didn't fall, still not convinced.

She went on, "Last time we spoke, I told you about going back in time to see MY dad, MY Pete, and saving his life. But it tore holes in time, and let in those monsters, until he sacrificed himself to put things back on track."

That finally did it. The pistol sank, shaking, till it pointed to the floor, and he took another huge, shaky breath. "OK," he finally said. "But I sure wish you'd warned me."

"Sorry," she replied, equally shaken. "I didn't think you'd be up this far north, and they didn't tell me who was coming. Pete..." She took a step closer, pleading, warning him. "I'm not alone, this time. There's someone else with me." He was confused, his eyes flicking to Jared and back without recognition. Rose licked her lips and said, as gently as she could, "She's not your Jackie..."

Understanding stole slowly over his face, a tidal wave of wild grief hovering just behind his eyes. Those eyes lifted again, doing a slow pan of the flat...

… until they met Jackie's, as she stepped slowly out the bedroom door. For a long, aching minute they simply stood staring, then she walked carefully across the floor. "She told me your Jackie was..." She stopped, unable to say the word. "Oh, Pete..."

He reached a trembling hand towards her cheek, asking permission, and then they were in each other's arms, each sobbing for their own lost or missing love, who wore the other's face.


	6. Red Wolf and the Songbird

_**Author's Note: **__Guess who's been watching Billie's old music videos? *grins*_

Disclaimer: Rose Tyler may belong to the BBC, but her (poor) song herein is mine, as are any rotten tomatoes you may wish to toss.

* * *

**Red Wolf and the Songbird**

Pete finally managed to disengage from Jackie, caressing her cheek one last time then deliberately settling her into a chair before sitting himself on the couch opposite, waving Rose and Jared to seats, as well. The other three Resistance men had gathered around the broken dinette table and were quietly watching the Boss and the strangers.

Pete tore his eyes from his late wife's doppelganger and turned a weak smile on his daughter's, beside him on the couch. "Hullo, Ulva. Didn't think you'd be coming back."

Her smile was slightly stronger, if tinged with rue. "Wasn't planning to. We got dropped off at the wrong bus stop."

He snorted. "And now you need a lift to the station?" He glanced at Jared, perched on the edge of the other chair. "Pete Tyler."

"Jared Wolfe," came the reply – then a grin. "No relation."

Another soft snort, then he turned back to Rose. "Is he the one...?"

They both glanced at each other, erm-ing and um-ing. "Yes and no," Rose finally came up with, which was no help at all.

"Another parallel?" guessed Pete.

"No," Jared took over. "I'm a... a clone, born an adult, with the original's memories intact. But I'm staying with Rose. Can we just leave it at that?"

Pete's eyebrows flared, and he looked back at Rose again, seeming to see under her calm surface to the turmoil within. "Anything I can do?" he asked after a beat.

Her smile this time was genuine, and appreciative, even as she shook her head. "Just help us get back home," she replied.

"Of course," came instantly. "But you'll have to wait a few days. I'm not up here just for you; there's a mission afoot."

"What's going on?"

"We've known for a while that the bears have been developing some new weapons technology. We got word from our friend that it's ready for field testing, and has been installed on the heavy cruiser Leipzig, which is putting in to port at the Liverpool shipyards for a few days for supplies before heading out to the Atlantic for that testing. We've been asked by our western friends to try to get a look at it."

"Do you have any idea what it is?"

"Nope."

"Why 'bears'?" Jared was sidetracked, curious.

"Eh? Hitler's always associated himself with bears – well, with the first name Bernard, how could he not?" Ignoring the amused looks shared by Jared and Rose, Pete turned to the table. "Johnny, let's see those drawings."

Johnny, a short bloke with the air of someone who'd missed more than a few meals, started to stand before hesitating. "Boss, are you sure...?" His eyes darted around at the three newcomers.

"Hey!" Pete bristled. "She's the one who saved all our arses in Southhampton three months ago. So yeah, I trust her – and anyone she vouches for. You don't like it, there's the door."

"Sorry, boss, just bein' cautious," Johnny mumbled after a beat. He pulled a handful of papers from an inside pocket and handed them to Pete, who spread them out on the battered chest doubling as a coffee table while the other toughs gathered round, bringing their chairs.

"We have a way onto the navy base," Pete began his briefing, "but from there...?" One of the papers was a satellite view of the base, and he tapped the docks. "The Leipzig is tied up there. We already know we can get exterior shots from this building, but we need to get on board somehow."

"Do you know where the target is on the ship?"

He pulled out another sheet, a fuzzy, much-copied deck-by-deck schematic of the Leipzig, and pointed out a small room buried a couple of decks directly below the bridge. "We think it's here." He glanced sideways at Rose. "I don't suppose your little gizmos are working?"

She shook her head, pulling out her mobile phone and checking anyway. "Too far out of range, still."

"Why is that?" Jackie wanted to know. "I mean, we were bouncing around London before. Why do we have to be right on top of the rift here?"

"The tech boys think it's because of London – the bomb, I mean. The radiation from ground zero is interfering with the signals."

They brainstormed for some time, discussing ways and means, discarding every idea. The cruiser was going to be undermanned for the next twenty-four hours, as sailors were released for shore leave and other very short-term shore duties, but still patrolled by the naval security police.

Finally, one of the other Resistance men spoke up for the first time. "Boss... what about her? She could get us on board." He nodded at Rose.

"Absolutely not!" Pete shot back. "Forget it. Too dangerous."

The room fell silent at his flat denial. Jared noticed that Rose wasn't meeting his or anyone else's eyes. He was about to ask what the man had meant, when she softly asked Pete, "Is she still General Schultz's mistress? Is he still promoting her singing career?"

He flinched. "Yes." Then he turned and stared at her. "No! You're not thinking of doing it!"

She looked back levelly. "It's the only thing we've come up with that has any chance at all of working. You need to find out what that weapons system is before they start using it on you – or the Americans."

"Rose..." Jared got her attention. "You're not talking about impersonating this world's Rose, are you?"

"It's the only chance we've got! I can get them on board." Her voice was full of certainty on that score, though it shook with what he knew was only mock courage.

"Don't you mean 'us'?" he asked her simply. "I go where you go. Besides... I've got a promise to keep."

^..^

The day that Kapitan Lange's life changed forever had been the most ordinary day in the world, right up to the moment shortly after sunset when, coming back from a large, delicious dinner at the Liverpool Marinestation Offiziers-Club, washed down with liberal amounts of good dark German beer and brandy, he happened upon an odd scene at the top of the gangway. Someone was trying to gain access to his Leipzig. A very pretty, very blonde, very female, very drunk someone, who – when she turned her laughing brown eyes at his abrupt demand for an explanation – he was astonished to recognize: the English pop-singer mistress of General Schultz of the British Occupation Forces Headquarters in Birmingham. He'd met them, very briefly, at a dinner only last month.

What in the world was she doing here? And without the General; only a single hapless skinny soldier as a bodyguard, who'd apparently given up arguing with her already.

"Captain!" she wobbled over, and he caught the whiff of English gin. "Please tell your silly boys to stop pointing their guns at me. I just want to see your boat!" She clutched at his arm, conspiratorially. "I've never seen a boat this big before!"

He blinked. _Did she mean that double-entendre, or is she that drunk? _

_Does it matter? Now __this__ is the way to spend time in port!_

He waved the Marine-Polizei back with a sharp command to return to their posts, and smiled winningly down at her. _What was the silly whore's name? Ah, yes, Rose. They're calling her the English Rose on the radio._ "I would be honored to show you around the Leipzig, Fraulein!" He growled at her bodyguard to wait on the wharf in her car, but the dog obstinately continued to silently follow behind. _I'll get rid of him later. _

He took her up to the bridge, where she ooh'd and aah'd appreciatively – and without comprehension – over all the screens and equipment, and the view of the decks from the windows. She may have been drunk, stumbling and slurring her words, but she was surprisingly slippery, managing to keep just out of his wandering hand's reach. Still, it was her idea to go below, so perhaps she was just being cautious where they could be seen.

It was his dumb luck to blunder in to the Officer's Wardroom with her when there were still a dozen or so of his officers there. Of course, they all recognized her immediately, as well, swarming around and petitioning her to sing one of her execrable British pop songs to them. She didn't look any more comfortable with that suggestion than he felt, surprisingly, but he couldn't be bothered to figure out the reason. _Entertainers always love showing off at a moment's notice. Perhaps this will get her to loosen up a bit more, before we get to my quarters._ So he joined in the pleas, making sure someone poured her a drink, as well.

"All right, all right!" she finally gave in, after exchanging a strange look with her bodyguard, still keeping close behind her. "But not one of the songs from the radio. Tell you boys what – I'll make a deal with you. I'll sing you a new song, one I haven't recorded yet – but only if each and every one of you promises not to tell a single soul about it. Not the song – and not my being here, either. Promise?"

As she looked around to collect their promises, the reason struck the Kapitan: _She's not supposed to be here at all! If word gets back to the General, she could be in deep trouble. Well, I'm certainly not going to tell on her – as long as she makes it worth my while._ So he added his promise, loudly, encouraging the others to join in on the secrecy pact.

"OK," she went on. "This song has meant a lot to me the past few years. I hope you like it. I'm not sure how well it will sound a capella, but just..." she laughed nervously. "Just imagine there's a guitar player here, OK?" Again, she exchanged quick glances with her bodyguard. _Am I going to have more trouble getting rid of him than I thought? What's going on there?_ wondered the Kapitan, but then she began a soft, slow tune – quite unlike the noise played on the radio – and he forgot the bodyguard.

_I'm dreaming of the life I once led  
Just trying to find my way back to you  
I've got to keep on searching  
Running down paths we once knew  
Where are you?_

_You caught me every time I fell  
We fit together so right  
But It's so hard to keep believing  
In dreams that fade away in the night  
Where are you?_

_We could change the world together  
You're the missing piece of my heart  
But I can't follow dreams forever  
Just to see them fall apart  
Where are you?_

_Just beyond my reach  
Far beyond the stars  
Right behind me, right beside me  
I look but you're not there  
Where are you?  
Where are you?_

Her lovely contralto faded away into an almost awkward silence, then the officers applauded loudly, not sure what to make of the strange song but appreciative of the singer, at least. She blushed and thanked them, then set down her untouched drink and turned towards the door, saying "I really should be going now. Captain, can you see me out?"

Lange sprang to her side again, ignoring all their protests, worried that she was slipping away – but once out the door she clutched his arm again, smiling and flirting, then making a game of darting away at random, leading him deeper into the ship. He caught her at a locked door and made her pay the price, stealing a kiss before she squirmed away. Then she crossed her arms and tapped a foot, looking petulantly up at him. "Show me what's in here!"

"No, Fraulein, I have a better idea. My quarters are just up above here, and much more comfortable, ja?"

"But I want to see what's in here!"

Some stray bit of sober caution made him pause, and he glanced at the door. It was the control room for Projekt Sternchen. He looked back at her, confused, and she turned up the volume on her flirtatious smile. "Please?"

He shook his head, smiling back and reaching for her again. "Fraulein..." he began chidingly, when he heard a step behind him. That damned persistent bodyguard again. He turned to growl at him to get lost...

…and found himself staring down the barrel of the bodyguard's pistol. "I insist," the skinny soldier said pleasantly, in a distinctly British accent.


	7. Threefer

**Threefer**

As Captain Lange gaped at Jared – or rather, at Jared's pistol – Rose stepped back away from his grasping hands and pulled her own tiny derringer out of its thigh holster under her skirt, silently blessing Pete for providing the guns. Jared had only hesitated a brief second before taking his and sliding it into its holster on his hip. The image had branded itself into her brain: _The Doctor With a Gun_; and she knew she'd have to do some serious reflecting about the ramifications of it later. Was it only as part of his disguise as her bodyguard? Was it a serious commitment to protecting her, as promised? How far would he take it, if pressed? She had his promise, but... she still didn't know which answer she really wanted to hear. How different from the Doctor _was_ Jared? How different did she _want_ him to be? How different – and _what_ differences – could she handle?

Pete had balked at Jared's being her only companion, wanting one of his own men along to protect her and take the pictures, but Rose had overruled him there, too. "Actually, Pete, he's the _perfect_ person to be in there. Forget pictures; give him ten seconds, and he'll be able to tell you _exactly_ what the weapon is, how to counteract it, and probably even put it out of commission for you." Pete still looked uneasy, but she quietly gave him the kicker. "It's both of us, or neither." So he'd given in. This Pete was as pragmatic as the next. Still, he'd had a very quiet word with Jared before the mission, and she didn't have to hear his solemn promise of retribution for herself to know it had been given.

Captain Lange took a sharp breath to bluster, turning back to Rose – and stopped again at the derringer now in her hand. He was obviously a quick thinker; she could almost see the decision to play along until it was safe to react. She'd have to watch him very closely while Jared did his thing. He spread his hands wide, then reached to put his palm on the reader, pausing to look at her again while the door clicked open. "Imposter or spy?" he asked simply.

On impulse, she decided to play it straight. Whatever the reason for her double's unthinkable actions, she wasn't going to put her in needless danger in revenge. "Imposter."

He grunted. "You're very good. You look _exactly_ like her."

She smiled wryly, then stopped him with a hand when he moved to enter the door, edging to the threshold herself and carefully checking for any obvious security traps. Finding nothing but the usual control room setup and a single startled scientist in the traditional white lab coat, she sidled in, then motioned the Captain and Jared to follow. She pulled the nearest chair back as far from the console as it would go, then motioned Lange into it, positioning herself behind him and pressing her derringer into the base of his skull. Prisoner secured, she finally nodded Jared's release to go to work.

He did so rapidly, holstering the pistol and pulling out the sonic screwdriver. All three of them ignored the scientist's "Kapitan? Was ist dies?" though Rose kept an eye on him. Watching the achingly familiar vision of the tousle-headed string bean bending over a console and whizzing the sonic, then reading the data screens as they cascaded past, she had to blink back sudden prickling tears and take several deep breaths against the exploding pain in her chest. Then she ruthlessly squashed her reactions, promising to deal with them later, knowing she had to someday – and soon.

As she'd promised Pete, within ten seconds he'd found the answer, rearing back with such a patented look of horror that she almost snickered. "Are you _insane?"_ he cracked, looking back and forth between the Captain and the scientist, a fifty-ish man with an almost caricaturistic goatee and half-moon glasses.

"What is it?" she broke in.

"A primitive warp star. Basically, a supernova in a can." He looked back at the scientist. "You realize that if you set this off, it will blast a chunk out of the planet the size of the moon, wiping out ALL LIFE ON EARTH?"

"Who the devil are you?" came the astonished reply, in English.

"I'm the –" Jared began automatically, then managed to switch tracks with only the tiniest gap. "– man who's going to stop this, right here, right now!" He didn't bother with further exposition, but clicked up a new setting on the sonic and began whizzing it against the console again. _One deactivation coming up, as promised,_ thought Rose.

But suddenly he stopped, reading further screens, then slowly looked back at the lab coat again. "Who are _you?"_

The scientist swallowed. "Doctor Heinz Schroeder," he replied.

"And you invented this monstrosity?"

A silent, jerky nod.

"And are you also the one who sabotaged it?"

Everyone reacted to that. _"Sabotage?"_ Lange hissed, leaning forward automatically. Rose reached with her free hand and dragged him back onto the derringer.

Schroeder ignored him, staring at Jared.

"How is it sabotaged?" Rose put in, worried.

"It's set to go off under certain conditions, probably when it's tested – not the full warp star, just a tiny auxiliary explosion. Just enough to sink the ship," Jared replied, continuing to gaze at Schroeder. "With you on board. Isn't that right? This is a suicide mission."

Another long, tense silence, and then Schroeder nodded. "Ja. I will not allow my name to be put beside the inventors of nuclear weapons as the killer of mankind. I will never allow this to happen. I will go down with the ship, and the program will end."

"But won't they just build another?" Rose jumped in, from her lifelong annoyance at the "prototype dodge" so often used in the cinema.

"No. I never wrote down most of my notes. My work is all in here," he said, tapping his head melodramatically. He turned back to Jared, pleading. "You must allow me to do this. If I live, they may find a way to force me..."

"And the rest of the men on board? You'd sacrifice them, too?"

"They are hardly innocent!"

Jared stared at him, a million lies and promises flashing through his awesome mind. The same parade of faces that had tormented his twin on the Crucible (though he didn't know that) went zinging past his mental eyes, searing him with memories of those who had sacrificed themselves on his behalf.

"But that's the point," he whispered to himself, even as it hit him. _They sacrificed __themselves__..._ He shook his head, and spoke again, with the quiet authority of nine hundred years. "Self-sacrifice for a greater good, or to prevent an evil, is one thing, and I would not stop you if that were the only option. But I cannot, and will not, countenance sacrificing others, against their will and without their knowledge and consent. That is the greater evil."

He caught Rose's shining eyes and they shared a long, level look of silent understanding. Then he turned back to Schroeder. "Besides, it's too late," he added, dipping his head toward Lange. A glance at his Captain, whose face was slowly turning purple with outrage, was enough to convince the scientist, and he wilted. The weapon would not be destroyed via his sabotage now. He watched bleakly as Jared bent back over the console, whizzing his device and apparently deactivating the system. A series of whizzes and keyboard commands, and a computer voice announced "Payload Released".

"I fused the components and froze the gasses, then released the separate units into the water. They'll sink and never be found – nor be useful if they are," Jared told the others. "It's done."

"Are you with the Resistance?" Schroeder asked, desperation beginning to seep into his voice.

This was Rose's territory. "We have contacts..." she replied vaguely, waiting to see what he wanted.

"Then take me with you. Send me to the Americans. They cannot force me to reveal what I know. I wish to defect." He pronounced the last carefully, as if it were part of a ritual.

"And how can we be sure that you won't reinvent this thing, willingly or not?" Jared asked.

Schroeder shook his head helplessly. "I give you my word. If that is not enough... I wish I could forget what I have learned," he added sadly.

"Jared?"

"Are you absolutely certain you want to forget? Because I can help you with that."

Startled, the scientist stared, then nodded. "If you can do what you just did, then I believe you can make me forget. But only this, ja?"

"Ja." Taking a deep, centering breath, Jared stepped forward and put his palms on either side of Schroeder's face, concentrating. Within seconds it was done, and he dropped his hands again, stepping back.

Schroeder's eyes had closed, now they flew open in wonder. "It is gone..." He looked around at the consoles. "I remember... I know what this was for... but how I made it... it's gone!" Smiling broadly underneath teary eyes, he reached for Jared's hand and shook it. "Thank you, mein Herr. Thank you!"

"You're welcome," came the reply. "Now I just want your word that you will not work to rediscover it!"

"Oh, yes, mein Herr! Absolut!" He stopped suddenly. "But you will still take me with you, ja?"

"I rather think we'd better," Rose broke in again. "The Reich won't believe your memory loss, will it, Captain?" She prodded Lange with her derringer again.

Lange shook his head. His face was no longer purple; all color had drained away instead. "Do you know what you have done?" he whispered hoarsely. "All of you?"

"Yeah. We just saved the planet," Jared said sarcastically. "Which we rather make a habit of, don't we, Rose?"

She smiled at him, but of course that wasn't what Lange meant. He shook his head, ignoring their mutual admiration. "You have also just signed my death warrant. Once this is known, even if you erase my memories of this night, I will face the firing squad." He leaned forward again, suddenly making up his mind – Rose had been right on his quick thinking. "Take me with you, as well. I beg you. I don't wish to defect, but I will live longer with the Americans than I will the Germans."

Jared and Rose stared at each other, surprised at this latest development. He tipped his head at her, _You're in charge here._

She slowly walked around to the front of Lange's chair, so she could look directly into his eyes. After a long, assessing look, she nodded slowly. "Get us – all of us – safely off this ship, Captain, and I'll turn you over to the Resistance. You'll have to convince them of your sincerity. I can't make you any guarantees, but I do have some pull with them. I'll do what I can."

He stared back, assessing her in return. This was NOT the empty-headed little songbird he'd thought he was seducing. After a moment, he nodded. "I'll take the chance. Thank you."

^..^

He kept his word, getting them safely off the Leipzig past the curious Marine-Polizei, and back down to the little car they'd parked in the shadows of the wharf. Rose took the precaution, once they were out of sight, of having Jared blindfold both Germans and tie their hands while she carefully drove them to the rendezvous point in one of the empty warehouses nearby.

Their prisoners waited in the car while they explained to Pete what had happened. "Just look at it like this, Pete: we got a threefer! The weapon is destroyed, and you have both the scientist and an officer to show for it!" Pete stared, then snorted, then directed the three men with him to take the prisoners to a safe house and keep them under tight guard until they could contact the Americans.

As they turned to follow Pete back to their escape route off the base, Jared bumped Rose's shoulder. "Still make a pretty good team, eh?" She kept her face straight at his goofy grin, and he bumped her shoulder a couple more times. "Eh? Eh?"

"Nope," she said levelly, and his face slowly fell.

Then her eyes sparkled. "We make a _brilliant_ team." A slow smile crossed her lips, and she reached for his soldier's tie, and pulled his head down for a quick, passionate kiss, before they turned and ran after Pete, hand in hand. As always.


	8. Wolves on a Train

**Wolves on a Train**

Two days later found Pete carefully shepherding the offworlders through the Manchester Piccadilly Station, boarding a train for the new capital, Birmingham. The Greater Americans had gladly accepted the two defectors, who were swiftly smuggled out of the country in a cargo container behind a wall of sewing machines, on a small ship bound for Iceland. With them off Pete's hands, he was now taking his charges through the Resistance Headquarters, next step on their long journey to St Ives and home.

As they had suspected it would, word of the disappearance of two middling-high-ranking members of the German hierarchy in Britain had spread like wildfire, as did whispers of the involvement of a mysterious double of the English Rose. Obviously it was a double – she'd been quite visibly on the town with her General down in Birmingham on the day and night in question. With the whole country thus alerted, Rose was making concessions to anonymity, including a temporary brunette dye job on her tied-back hair, blue tinted contacts, and judicious application of stage makeup, which subtly altered her appearance just enough to deflect recognition. She'd also reclaimed Jackie's wedding ring (left off during the mission) and stuck close to Jared's side as further camouflage. (He'd made such a tiny – almost negative – impact on the Leipzig officers that no two of them could even agree on a description of the faux Rose's bodyguard, so he was safe.)

They would have preferred not to use public transportation at all, but the extra scrutiny being given every single vehicle going through the copious checkpoints on every highway had brought road traffic to a standstill – the resulting overflow of weary travelers flooding the rails and limited airlines had made those routes the safer choice. Still, not as many could afford the first class fares, so the foursome managed to find a tiny private compartment for themselves – a sleeper for two converted into a cozy daytime room for four. "Good thing its not an overnight trip," was Jackie's comment.

Shortly after the rattling journey started, the inevitable inspectors came through the cars, giving everyone's travel papers another once-over. The Johnson family, plus son-in-law, returning to their home in the capital after attending the father's brother's funeral up in Manchester passed inspection easily, and carefully masked their sighs of relief at the door closing on the inspector's back.

A little while later, amid desultory chitchat, Rose glanced across the tiny gap and caught Pete gazing at her with such a sad, bereft expression that it took her breath away. She held his eyes, her face twisting with empathy. "I'm sorry..."

He shook his head. "It's not your fault, sweetheart." He sighed heavily, turning at last to look out the window. "No, it's mine."

"What do you mean?" asked Jackie. None of them had any doubt the subject of the conversation: his own Rose.

He gave her a rueful grimace. "I'm in the rare and unenviable position among fathers of knowing _exactly_ what I did wrong," he replied. "I didn't pay enough attention to her. Quite literally." She took a breath to object, but he stopped her. "No, I'm serious. I went to prison for four years when she was eleven, and when I got out, she was out the door – off with friends, and boyfriends, all day and into the night. She had her own life, and... I left her to it, and just dove back into the Res – the group," he amended hastily, glancing swiftly at the door as he remembered they were in a public place, after all. "I didn't try to reconnect with her, or spend any time with her. And I should have. I had no idea who her friends were, what she was up to. I never _dreamed_..." Another sigh. "... she'd go so wrong."

Everyone was silent at that, as he turned to stare back out the window at the passing scenery. Even Jackie had nothing to say (Rose had quietly told her of the other Rose's perfidy a day or two before).

Jared decided to change the subject. "Pete..." he began. "Tell me about the Bad Wolf."

That brought the fighter's attention back, though his face twisted in puzzlement. "It's just a bunch of fairy tales, for kids."

"I know, but we don't have them at all in our world, so we've never heard them. They must be important, for the movement to adopt the name."

"Well, I don't know about important. More like ubiquitous. Easily recognizable, but so innocuous as to not attract unwanted attention."

"Still... go on, spin us a tale."

"Well..." Recognizing the distraction for what it was, and willing to go along with it, Pete leaned back. "I'm so used to it being part of our culture that it's strange to think you've never heard of it. There's gobs of different stories. I guess the introduction should start with the fact that Bad Wolf is a she-wolf, not a male, and she's not bad at all, but a heroine. I think the explanation was that she's goodhearted and kind, but that she liked to play little tricks and practical jokes – nothing mean, of course! – on her friends and family, so they took to calling her 'Bad' as a kind of in-joke, to tease her.

"Of course, the other reason why the name was adopted by the group was that her most frequent opponents – the 'bad guys' of the stories – were various bears. Made it a natural to pit against Hitler's bears."

He thought for a few seconds. "I suppose the most famous and popular story – judging by the number of movies made about it, at least, both human and animal – is the story of the Rescue of Blue Wolf. When Bad Wolf grew up, she mated with a male called Blue Wolf, because of his blue-tinged grey fur and piercing blue eyes. They didn't have a territory of their own, but constantly wandered about. There are tons of little tales about them rescuing and helping all sorts of other animals. But this one story tells how they got into trouble one day, and found themselves surrounded by a huge pack of jackals, who were going to tear them to shreds. Blue Wolf gets wounded in some of the tellings, and Bad Wolf has to slip away to try to get help, leaving him to fend them off from his hiding place. But while she's gone, _she_ gets captured, either falling into a wolf pit, or caught by a hunter and put into a steel cage. Eventually, she (very cleverly, of course) figures out how to get free, and goes streaking back to Blue Wolf, just in time to attack the jackals from behind, destroying every one, and saving his life."

Rose had been struggling to hide her growing smile, but Jared refused to make it easy for her, shooting her amused conspiratorial glances and nudging her side with his elbow when Pete looked away. Jackie was just quietly, resignedly shaking her head at them both.

"What about Red Wolf, your name?" Jared egged Pete on.

"Well, actually... Red Wolf is the name of Bad Wolf's father, believe it or not." Pete was beginning to catch on that something was... odd. "The story about him is that he'd been missing for years when one day, Bad Wolf heard that he was being held captive by an evil prince in a neighboring kingdom – remember, these are kids' stories. Anyway, she travels to rescue him, and does, with many battles against the evil prince and his minions." He looked squarely at Rose. "Kind of like how you showed up out of nowhere at Southhampton and bailed me out. And here I thought I was being funny when I named you Ulva."

She managed to keep her face straight, shaking her head. "Pure coincidence."

"Well, I'm still here, anyway. In some versions of that story, Red Wolf ends up sacrificing himself so she can get away. I sure hope our story doesn't end that way."

That caught everyone up short, and Rose stared at him, horrified. "It better not! No... _don't let it, _Pete."

Her sudden intensity startled him, to say the least. He stared, then burst out laughing. "It's just a fairy tale, sweetheart!"

She wasn't mollified. "I've seen too many fairy tales – and horror stories – come true." Then she snorted, and shook her head at her own reactions. "I need a vacation."

^..^

Headquarters for the Resistance movement was currently located on an upper floor of a huge old half-empty factory-and-warehouse building in a crumbling industrial park on the outskirts of Birmingham. "You understand that we move it around as frequently as we can, to keep the Nazis guessing," added Pete. He took them through to a large room that could be called an office – if you ignored the cot and clothes chest in the corner. He obviously lived here most of the time.

"Boss!" Several people had entered the office behind them; the forty-ish, tough-looking man in the front getting Pete's attention with his intense stare and sharp whisper. None of them looked very happy.

"What is it?" When the man dipped his head questioningly at the trio, Pete nodded. "I vouch for them."

"We had an urgent message from Gemini this morning, asking us to pick up a package immediately."

"And did you? Gemini has top priority."

"We went there, but... it wasn't a package. It was a person."

"Did you bring them back here?"

The man nodded. "We did a thorough scan first. No bugs or tracers of any kind. And we took the very long route back; no tails."

"Well? Who is it?"

He hesitated, long enough that everyone was staring at him. Finally, he whispered hoarsely, "It's _her._"

Pete went utterly still, that very fact transmitting to his visitors who "_her_" was.

"Pete?" whispered Jackie; 'concerned' was an understatement.

Not meeting their eyes, he waved the three of them over to the corner behind the door, then said tersely to the bringer of the tidings, "Bring her in."

They whirled around, and within a minute were leading in a short figure in slacks and a jacket, hands tied behind her back and a hood over her head. She was forced onto her knees in the middle of the floor, then Pete sent the other Resistance men back out with a curt nod, closing the door behind them.

Then he forced himself to walk over to her, pulling the hood abruptly from her head, her messy blonde hair falling around her white, frightened, tear-stained face.

Rose.


	9. The Damage Done

**The Damage Done**

Utter silence reigned in Pete's office for several beats, as father and daughter, face-to-face for the first time since before her mother's death, stared into each other's eyes.

Then Rose's face slowly crumpled, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks, and she whispered brokenly, _"Daddy?"_

Pete's own face twisted in response, the hand holding her hood balling into a sudden fist betraying the impulse to strike out. "Don't call me that! You're not my daughter!"

She collapsed onto herself, sinking down from her knees, her head falling to her heaving chest as sobs began to escape. "I'm s-sorry! God, I'm so sorry!'

"_Sorry?"_ He couldn't believe his ears. "You caused your mother's death!"

"I didn't know!" she sobbed back. "I didn't know! I didn't know you were involved – either of you!"

"_What?"_

She looked back up at him again, pleading. "I didn't know you were part of it. I didn't even know what I was doing. I was drunk – I was stupid, I was _so_ stupid, and I let Jimmy get me drunk, and then we were talking, we were just talking, and I didn't know what I was saying." Her words were coming faster and faster, as the awful story came out. "I didn't know what I'd done until later, when it was too late. It was too late..."

"Jimmy? Jimmy Stones, your boyfriend?"

She nodded, desolate. "I didn't know... I was so stupid..."

He shook his head violently, rejecting it all. "But then you stayed with him after!"

She stared. "I didn't have anywhere else to go!" she wailed. "I knew you were _never_ going to forgive me – _nobody_ was, by that time _everybody_ knew what I'd done, because of those damn posters! I'd dropped out of school, no job, no skills... There was nothing I could do, nowhere I could go! I _had_ to stay with him."

Pete was breathing hard. "And the General?" he hissed. "Did you _have_ to go with him?"

Her eyes dropped to the floor again, cowed. Still sobbing, she choked out, "He offered me a comfortable life, out of the shithole I was trapped in with that slimebucket. He offered me security, and comfort, and a shot at a singing career. I'm not going to apologize for taking the only chance I thought I'd ever get to get away from that bastard, and make my life a little better." She looked up at him again. "And then I realized he was telling me things, that I could pass on to you, to try to help you."

That completely threw Pete. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She stared at him again, nonplussed that he hadn't made the connection. "Dad... I'm Gemini!" At his blank, unbelieving expression, she went on, crushed anew. "Don't you remember the game we played when I was little? You were Prince Aries, and I was Princess Gemini? I chose the name for that... I... I thought you'd remember!"

Jared couldn't remain silent any longer. He took several steps away from the corner, where Rose and Jackie were clutching each other, hands over their own mouths to keep from crying. "What frequency?"

Father and daughter both turned to him, startled and confused. "What?"

"How were you sending those messages?" he tried again.

She shook her head, confused at the stranger's sudden appearance and the seemingly out-of-nowhere question. "It was... a short-wave radio set I nicked. The frequency was... it was encrypted wavelength six fifty-seven using binary nine."

Jared looked at Pete. He didn't have to ask, the other man's face said it all: that was Gemini's frequency.

Rose shook herself free from Jackie, gently pressing her to stay put out of her double's line of sight – the broken girl wouldn't be able to handle seeing the ghost of her dead mother yet. But she herself walked slowly towards her father's twin. "Pete..." She reached his side and placed a hand on his arm. "I believe her. There was a Jimmy Stones in my life, too. He didn't lead me _that_ far astray, but... he sure as hell wasn't a positive influence."

Pete stared at her, feeling so far out of his depth that he wasn't sure he'd ever swim again. He looked back at his daughter, still kneeling on the floor – and the sight hit him again, hard. "Get those ropes off her," he told Jared, squeezing his eyes shut.

Jared helped her up off the floor and whizzed the sonic behind her back, and the ropes fell to the floor. She brought her hands back around, absently rubbing her wrists, all the while staring at this other woman in shock. Even with the makeup, and her hair darkened, it was like looking in a mirror. "You... you really are my double... It was you up in Liverpool, wasn't it?"

Pete was still fighting to make sense of it. "If you had such a comfortable life, why are you here now?"

She stared at him, then dipped her head at her twin. "Because of her! After the stories came out, those two men disappearing and the others saying I had been there, he thought I had something to do with it, even though I had been right there with him the whole time. I think he started to suspect me of passing information. He told me some things last night – things I'd normally pass on, but the way he said them... I think they're fake. I think it's a trap, for me and for you. And I realized..." She'd been going strong, showing hints of the strength that must have been hiding deep inside, if she was anything like her parallel, but now she faltered again. "I can't stay there anymore. It's too dangerous... and I hate it. I hate him touching me... I hate faking smiles at everyone. I can't stand all those people. I can't do it anymore." She shuddered, then took a deep, bracing breath. "So I sent a message asking for a pickup – me. Please, Da –" She choked off the word, trying to gather up some shreds of dignity even as she pleaded her case. "Please. Just... Help me get away. I want a new life. I want to start over. I know I don't have any right to ask you for anything, I know you'll still never forgive me for what I did. But if you can... maybe help me get to America, where I can disappear and start over. Please..."

Pete was completely at a loss. He didn't know what to think, to say, to do. His eyes slid off his daughter towards her double, who he'd been laughing with – and loving – such a short time before. But then those eyes stopped, drawn past the three in front of him towards the far corner, where Jackie still stood silently in the shadows, hands over her mouth to hold back her sobs, her tears all for this lost soul, her own daughter's other side.

He looked back at his daughter, seeing her afresh: lost, alone, bereft, struggling, used, betrayed, damaged. Suddenly the tears he'd held back since his own Jackie's death were pouring down his face, and he reached out blindly, with a wild sob, and gathered his prodigal daughter tight in his arms, holding her like he'd never let her go again.

Jared grabbed his Rose's hand and turned, pulling her and Jackie silently out the door, and left them to their joyous, tragic reunion.


	10. Perspectives

**Perspectives**

Outside Pete's office in the old warehouse, Jackie pulled Rose over to an alcove of boxes and crates nearby, Jared drifting along behind. Mother and daughter sat huddled silently together, Rose's head on her Mum's shoulder, absorbing the scene they'd just witnessed and its revelations.

"Kinda puts things in perspective, doesn't it?" whispered Rose at one point.

Jackie twisted her head to look at her daughter, and raised an eyebrow. "I told you that Stones was bad news."

Rose stared, then spluttered, halfway between laughter and tears, Jackie joining her a beat later.

A short distance away, Jared sat staring at his hands. Unable to sit still for very long, though, he investigated the hard lump in a pocket, rediscovering Mickey's transport disk. It still showed no signal from home base in Pete's World, but he began fiddling with it, buzzing the sonic to discover its secrets. An idea slowly snuck in sideways, and he stared around the massive space, seeing intriguing bits and pieces laying around everywhere – and suddenly he was moving, searching out and gathering up an impressive array of junk and bringing it back to their alcove.

Rose was content to simply sit and watch him work, the first opportunity she'd had to indulge in her former favorite non-activity since they'd arrived in this world. Was this the man she'd searched so desperately for, launching herself from world to world and fixing timelines? Was he the answer to her dreams? Or would the fact that the Doctor (the one, the only, the original and the best) was still out there in his time ship prove to be the insurmountable obstacle to her happiness with this... copy? Jared was so inescapably much like the Doctor – sitting here, if she didn't know any better... Yet, he _was_ different; he was part human, part Donna, with all her redheaded brassiness – different in ways she had only begun to explore, and suspected he himself had only the faintest inkling of. Had he changed too much? Too much for her to love as wholeheartedly and unreservedly as she had the Doctor? Or for that matter, would the fact that he was available, hers for the taking, and not the unattainable, uncapturable alien she'd fallen in love with mean she would lose interest and fall out of the enchantment?

She didn't know the answers. All she knew was she was both desperately afraid of them, and equally desperately afraid of losing him, of losing the last link she had to the life and man she loved so much, of pushing him away, of discovering the truth too late – whichever truth it might be.

She knew she had changed, as well. She wasn't quite the bubbly, giddy, fearless adventuress she had been during her travels with the Doctor. She'd seen too much, done too much, traveled much too far afield. She was tougher, smarter, and used to being in charge. Had she changed too much for him?

_And what the hell are we going to do with ourselves, once we make it back to Pete's World? Without the TARDIS..._ Visions of boring jobs, credit cards and mortgages trudged drearily before her eyes.

"Jackie?" Pete's gruff voice came unexpectedly from his office door, breaking into all their separate thoughts. "Would you..." he gestured back inside. At her unspoken question, he nodded. "Yeah, I've explained the whole thing. She understands you're not... that you're from a parallel world. Though _understanding_ and _believing_..." He shrugged helplessly.

Jackie took a deep, steadying breath and nodded, then rose and walked uncertainly through the door, Pete closing it again behind them. His Rose was huddled on one of the many crates being used everywhere as chairs, watching her approach with a stunned, almost fearful expression.

Jackie stopped a step away, and bit her lip. "I can't offer you _your_ mother's forgiveness," she finally said. "But I _can_ offer you _a_ mother's love."

Rose's face twisted, stifling sobs with her knuckles. She couldn't move. Jackie reached out, then, and this other, tragic version of her own daughter slipped at last into her arms, the river of tears beginning anew for all three, as Pete wrapped both of them up in his arms, too. A very, very long time later, when the river finally slowed once more, something had subtly changed inside each one. The awful wounds would never heal, the crushing guilt and stabbing pain would never go away, but maybe... they were just that tiniest bit less lethally sharp.

^..^

Rose stared at the door closing behind her Mum, knowing that things would be different for all of them once it opened again – for the better, she sincerely hoped. She thought it would. She sighed heavily, for the wounds her twin had suffered, and would continue to suffer, long after she and Mum had (hopefully) left.

Turning back, she caught Jared's eyes and gave him an unexpectedly shy smile, hoping her previous tortured thoughts weren't showing on her face. When he smiled back after a beat, she shook her head of all of them, and seized on a change of subject. "What are you working on?"

He shook his head, disgusted. "Something I should have done last week. I'm getting _thick!_" He went back to his puttering, but before she could draw breath to continue, he asked her, apparently out of nowhere, "What was the name of that character on TV – I think it was from this time period – who could supposedly make a bomb out of chewing gum and a paperclip?"

Diverted, bemused, she thought hard for a moment. "MacGyver?"

"That's the one. I am, Rose Tyler," he always did love saying her name like that, "_MacGyvering_ you a disguise." He gestured vaguely towards her darkened hair. "A better one than that. Gotta keep you safe until we get out of here." He put down the sonic, looking around the warehouse again as he thought aloud. "Now... I need a crystal... and something small, like a piece of jewelry." His eyes fell on Rose, sliding down to her hands – she'd pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. He nearly pounced, "Your watch! It's got a crystal, doesn't it? Perfect – toss it over here!"

He reached out to catch it, then stopped short, startled, when she didn't immediately move to take it off, but merely raised a severe eyebrow at him.

"Will I get it back?"

"Of course!"

"In one piece? Working? I'm fond of this watch; it was a birthday present. From Pete."

He put on his most earnest expression, pulling that hand back and placing it over his single heart. "I give you my solemn vow, Miss Tyler, that I will not so much as sunder a single tick from its tock."

Spluttering, she unclasped the watch and tossed it to him. He grinned and caught it, adding it to his contraption. "Now," he said again, looking at her with an apologetic air this time. "I also need a strand of your hair. With the root, unfortunately."

She'd forgotten how utterly random and unpredictable he could be. But adorable, with those big brown puppy-dog eyes. She reached up and separated out a single strand of hair, yanked it out and reached it to him without a word. He took it carefully, as if made of the most precious substance in the universe, and wrapped it around one finger to secure it. "Now... someone else..." Looking around at the half-dozen other Resistance members in sight, he zeroed in on an attractive, middle-aged Indian woman monitoring a radio. Bemused, Rose watched him walk over and plead his case, coming back a minute later with his trophy hair and a wary, bewildered look for his trouble.

He went back to his jiggery-pokery, bending low over his crate-turned-workbench to wind both hairs around a tiny screw, and then add that to a few other miniscule bits prized from a broken mobile phone and glue it all sonically to the back of the watch. As he went back to work on the companion contraption, putting it together from the – unbroken! – transport disk and some other unlikely components, Rose's thoughts returned again to their former pathways. She found herself once more trying to make sense of, and figure out her reactions to, the mind-bending events surrounding the Crucible and after, when she was suddenly abandoned by the man she'd chased so far and so long. Abandoned with, and to, this imperfect duplicate, who had been struggling ever since to find himself, she knew. She was torn, every minute, between attraction to his so-familiar face and personality, wanting so much to help him, be with him – and the devastating pain of his twin's betrayal, making her want to run away from those familiar eyes as much as she wanted to sit and gaze into them forever.

He suddenly glanced up at her again, catching her unguarded expression before she had time to smooth a mask over it. He slowly put down the sonic and stood, stepping to her crate to straddle the end beyond her feet and sit, all without breaking eye contact. _Are you reading my mind?_ she thought at him, but he didn't react in any way, so she took it for a no. She'd never had been sure of how far his telepathic abilities went.

_Say something!_ he was yelling at himself. Trouble was, he had no idea what. So much for the idea that there was always the perfect thing to say, and he could find it. Finally, he settled on whispering, "I'm here."

Maybe that was the right thing, after all. Her face softened, and she nodded. "I think... I think we both need some time, to adjust to all this, and figure things out."

That actually scared him. "You don't mean... time away from each other?"

She snorted softly, then smiled tenderly. "No. That's not what I mean."

"Whew!" He wilted in relief. Then, a thought: "Do you... do you live at the mansion? With Pete and Jackie?"

"When I'm there," she answered, reminding him obliquely of her recent constant world-hopping. "Why?"

"Well... I was just thinking..." He stopped, and she encouraged him with a lift of her eyebrows. "I was thinking, it'd be nice to take some time off, and be alone with each other. Just the two of us. Away."

"Yeah?" she said softly, her eyes shining. "This is new..."

"Is it?" His mouth quirked, reminding her of all the times he'd been so eager to leave London, and the flat.

She rolled her eyes, and nodded. "No, I guess it isn't, at that." Then she smiled again, letting him off the hook. "Don't worry... I got it covered. The time off, I mean."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Her smile turned mysterious, and she refused to say more.

He grinned, and let it go. "Okay, boss. I trust you." He leaned closer, asking for a kiss, and she gave it to him, gladly. Then he stood and returned to his fiddling, and she let him go, smiling as the recognition of this new development sunk in: a small, casual kiss, symbolic of a new level of comfort with their changing, romantic relationship. She hugged her knees to her chest again, basking in a tiny new warmth.

_Maybe we can work this out, after all._


	11. Destinations

_**A/N:** my classes are starting up again next week, and I'm again taking a full load, so I'll be going back on my pre-holiday posting schedule of one or two chapters per weekend. Sorry for the regular delays. I'm trying to get these three lost travelers home before then, but no promises. You know how they like to drag things out. _

_PS – for anyone familiar with St Ives: yes, I've changed some names and invented a new holiday. It's a parallel world, after all. So don't hang me for misplacing a road or something._

**

* * *

Destinations**

"Ah-_HAH!" _Jared crowed. "Finito!" He twirled the sonic around his fingers with a flourish before stuffing it back into his pocket, then plucked the enhanced watch and the transport disk out of his Goldbergesque contraption and stepped over to Rose's crate. "Madam, if you please?" Drawing her left arm out, he draped the watch over her wrist, watching her face closely – then his own mug was split by the biggest grin she'd seen since their arrival. "Hah-_hah! Perfecto!"_

"What?" she asked with not a little trepidation, even as she couldn't help but echo his infectious grin.

In answer, he took both her hands and held them up in front of her, and she gasped. Those were _not_ her hands. The fingers were longer, the skin was definitely darker. She took a quick glance at the woman whose hair he had snagged; no, her new hands weren't that dark – maybe halfway in between. She looked back at Jared. "And my face?"

"We need a mirror!" He began craning his neck, but she forestalled him.

"There's one in the ladies' room – over there." (She'd made use of the facilities a short time before. The mirror wasn't very large, or very clear, but it would do.)

Jared slipped the watch back off her wrist and grabbed her hand, half running to the indicated door and barging right through it. (Luckily, the room was empty.) Placing Rose in front of the mirror, he stood behind her so as to watch her reflection, then replaced the watch against her wrist.

Her mouth dropped open. The second the metal had touched her skin, her reflection had flickered for an split second, then been replaced with that of a stranger. But not the radio operator... not quite. "I don't... look like her, though."

"Nope. You're not a copy. This is a combination of your DNA codes with hers – I suppose you could say this is what a child of yours and hers would look like, if you could have children – a bit difficult, since you're both female, but not insurmountable. In fact, the Chiriri of Daskellia are all female, did I ever tell you that? They... " Finally catching the expression on her face, Jared shut his gob with a pop. "Sorry."

"Can I turn it off?"

"Just take the watch off. And it won't work for anyone else, either," he went on, as she slipped it off to watch her own face flicker back in. "Whenever the device on the back of it touches skin, it checks to see if the DNA matches one of its two samples. If not, nothing. If it does, it projects that combination image onto the skin it's touching – all of it, not just the visible parts."

"Wow..." she breathed. "That is... _brilliant!_ Of course!" she added as an afterthought, then turned and flung her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Jared."

The same realization struck both of them at the same moment: they were alone for the first time since they'd left the MacLaren Estate. Their eyes softened, and he bent his head to touch his lips to hers –

– and the door opened. "Oops – sorry!" It was one of the Resistance women. "Um.. the boss is looking for you." She backed out and quietly closed the door.

They sighed at the same moment, then shared a grimace. "Hold that thought?" Rose asked resignedly, and he nodded a promise for later.

Back in the main room, they demonstrated and explained the new disguise for Pete and the others, who of course were suitably impressed. "Can you make more?" Pete asked quickly.

Jared nodded. "All I need is a watch and a couple of hairs. But there are some limitations. One, it's powered by this," holding up the transport disk. "You have to stay within a few feet of the disk for it to work, and since we only have two disks, that limits the number of people that can be disguised. One disk could run two or three disguises, but no more than that. Two, it does drain the power on the disks, very slowly, but a definite drain. We'd be able to keep the disguises on for only a few hours before we'd have to take them off and let the disks recharge. How long does that take, Rose?"

"Half an hour," Jackie put in, and Rose nodded.

"Then, three, if we need the disks to transport out, back to our world, then the disguises need to be dropped half an hour before then, so they can recharge for that."

"All right..." Pete was thinking hard. "If one disk were running three disguises, how long would the power last?"

"Ten, twelve hours, tops."

"That would work. The train rides to St Ives are only six and a half, seven hours long all combined."

"Why train?" asked Rose.

"The motorways south and west of here are bolluxed. Damage from the war, which has never been completely repaired – though they're working on it. They fixed the railroads first. It's possible to get down there in a lorry or car, but between traffic, construction, and bad roads it takes five times as long as by train. We didn't have that problem getting you there last time because we stayed on the southern coast," he added, afterthought. Taking his own watch off, he handed it over to Jared. "I'll round up three more watches, for you, Jackie, and my Rose. How long will it take you to fix them up?"

"A couple of hours."

"All right, get started then." Remembering, he pulled a hair from his head and handed it over with a snort, then turned and pitched his voice for the room at large. It was very late in the evening, but half a dozen members of his group were still there, standing around and watching. "All right, listen up. You saw that demonstration. I need three more watches, two ladies', one gent's, and some voluntary hair donors, is that right?" He collected a confirmatory nod from Jared.

"We'll also need ID's for the five of us, under our new looks, travel documents for the St Ives SeaFest this weekend, and train tickets. I want to be on the first train tomorrow morning – that's 6:10, right, Charlie?"

One of the men nodded – the one who'd brought Pete's daughter into his office earlier. "When are you coming back, boss?" he asked.

Pete took a deep breath. "I'm not," he said simply. "Charlie, you're in command here from now on. I'm taking my daughter to America, for a fresh start. For both of us." He looked over his shoulder at his Rose, who had been hanging back, shy and unsure. Now she was staring at him, eyes moist. This was far more than she'd expected; he hadn't breathed a word of this in his office. "I'm not going to make the same mistake I made before," he added softly, and she swallowed hard and nodded back, _me neither._

Pete turned back to Charlie. "The two of us will be going on from Cornwall, through Dublin. Set that up, too. And, Charlie... make it for five. If these three don't make it back to their world, they'll come on with us, at least for the short term. It's going to be too dangerous for them here in England."

Charlie was nodding. "It's good you thought of that, boss. 'Cause there's a problem." He turned to Rose, standing next to Jared. "We've been monitoring the Rift with that equipment you left us. Haven't had time to figure out any use for it, yet, but we've been keeping an eye on it. At least the Bears aren't even aware of its existence yet."

"What's the problem?" Pete broke in, impatient.

Charlie glanced at him, wary, then back to Rose. "The signals have been fading steadily since the last time you were here. They're still there, but much weaker. You're gonna have to get right on top of it to use it."

"Is it still at the same spot?" Rose asked, worried.

He nodded. "Right under the Knolls Monument. But there's one other thing... The signals are still fading." He paused. "We think the Rift is collapsing."

Jared pounced. "How much time have we got before it closes?"

"At the current rate? No more than twenty-four hours."


	12. Parallels and Intersections

**Parallels and Intersections**

"So... you really are _me,_ then, right? From a parallel world?"

After verifying Charlie's report that the readings from the Cornish Rift were indeed fading, and at the current rate would disappear late the following day, Rose, stymied at her inability to do anything at the moment other than wait for morning, had drifted back over to watch Jared do his magic with the donated watches and hairs. The so-incredibly-familiar voice from behind startled her, and she swiveled around to see her doppelganger standing a few feet away, hands jammed in her jacket pockets. Pete had pulled Charlie into his office for something of a change of command briefing, leaving his daughter at loose ends, too.

"Yeah..." Not the most eloquent reply, but what else was there to say? She eyed the other girl warily.

"And... she's your real Mum." Local Rose tipped her head towards Jackie, the fourth member of the group, netting a pair of nods in return. Jackie patted the crate next to her in invitation, and the blonde crossed over to it, not noticing when her twin jerked away as she passed in front. Then she turned to Jared. "And you are?" she asked politely.

Jared had been watching under his eyebrows. Now he hooked one up amusedly, and tipped his head towards his Rose. "Hers." Then he grinned. "Jared Wolfe."

"Hi." She gestured towards his workbench. "That's amazing, what you're doing. Is that standard technology where you're from?"

"Nope," he replied. "Just me, bring brilliant."

Jackie snorted. "Don't listen to His Brilliance, Rose. He always did have a high opinion of himself. But no, that isn't standard, either."

Blonde Rose grinned uncertainly and turned the other way, back to her brunette twin, her grin fading swiftly at the solemn, wary expression on the mirror-image face. She took a deep, shaky breath. "I know I did awful, unforgivable things, but..."

The visitor shook her head suddenly. "No, it's not that. Do-" She stopped herself, wincing. "Jared... is this OK? I mean..." She struggled to find a way to express her concerns without giving too much away, and starting a complicated explanation she didn't want to give to either woman. "Are we in danger of attracting Reapers?"

Jared blinked. Her almost-use of his old name had startled him; the first time she'd done that, it had signaled her agitation clearly. Then his brain managed to make the connections she was alluding to, and he shook his head reassuringly. "No. This isn't a paradox. Completely different situation. Relax, you're fine."

"Has this happened before? Parallels meeting?"

"Mickey and Rickey, remember?"

"Oh, yeah... right." She snorted at herself, and after a beat made herself turn back toward the other Rose. "Sorry. This is just freaking me out. I've never run into myself before."

"There weren't any Rose Tylers in the other worlds you hopped across?" Jared put in, curious.

"Not that I ran into. I didn't stop and investigate every time. This is the only one where I met anyone I 'knew', until I got – home..." Diverted, she struggled again, and Jared read her mind this time. _Which universe is "home" now?_

"How about this?" he suggested. "The world we came from originally, let's call that one Alpha. The one we're trying to get back to, that we've been calling Pete's World, let's call that one Beta. There's too many Petes now. Then this one is Gamma."

"Trust you to go Greek on me," she replied. "No, we'll call this one the Reich." Her eyes shone at him, acknowledging his neat sidestep of the 'home' issue. _We'll figure that one out later._ She turned back to her twin, and was shocked at the hurt oozing from her hunched frame.

"I guess that makes me the Reich Rose, then, huh?"

"No! I.. I didn't mean that. I'm sorry..."

Jackie spoke up, softly. "I think that kinda depends on you, Rose."

Startled, the blonde stared at the woman wearing her mother's face. "What do you mean?"

"It depends on what you do from here on. Which direction you turn, and what you do with your life."

Rose took a deep breath and sat up straight. "I'm going to America, to get a brand new start."

"Then I'd say that makes you the American Rose."

A slow smile lit up the American Rose's face, and she lifted her chin proudly. Everyone could tell it was the first thing she'd had to be proud of in a long time. "I like that."

She leaned back against the wall, and everyone fell silent, thinking. Then the "American" Rose turned to her twin again. "In there," she began uncertainly, waving a vague hand at Pete's office door, "you said you knew a Jimmy Stones too?" Her twin nodded. "With the name, too, or just somebody like him?"

"No, that was his name. He talked me into dropping out of school and moving in with him. Four months later, he goes to prison for armed robbery, leaving me flat broke and homeless. I moved back in with Mum and finally found a dead-end job as a shop girl." Her eyes slid back to Jared, teasing. "Until somebody went and blew it up!"

"Oi!" he shot back. "I could have just left you down there in the basement with those Autons, you know! Probably should have, too. You've just been nagging me ever since!" Ignoring her outraged expression, he turned and tossed the watch he'd just finished to Jackie. "There you go, Jackie. Try that on."

Jackie caught the watch and slid it on, watching her own face in the mirror someone had pulled off the wall and brought out. Her disguise had a longer, thinner face, dark skin, and black hair – Jared had given her the same hair donor as he'd given his Rose, so they could remain related-looking. "That is absolutely astounding, Jared! What do I do to turn it off?"

"Just take the watch off, and keep it in your pocket. Now," he went on, turning to the two Roses. "The two of you. Same disguise, or different?"

"Nagging?" His Rose was still outraged.

"Same or different?" he repeated.

"_Nagging?"_

Realizing he'd really put his foot in it, he took a fortifying breath and stood, walking over to her crate and leaning over it on his hands beside her hips. His eyes were inches from hers. "I take it back. You don't nag. You have never nagged me. Rose Tyler is not a nag." Closing his eyes, he leaned in and kissed her frowning mouth, keeping at it until – several beats later – she gave in and began to respond. Coming up for air, he grinned, and couldn't resist one last touch. "You do have the most adorable pout, though." Ducking quickly away from her half-pretend swipe, he sat hastily down again, continuing as though there'd been no interruption. "Same or different?"

"Different," his Rose came back immediately. She looked at her twin. "They know you've got a double now, and as soon as they find out you've done a runner – if they haven't already – they'll put us together, and be looking closely at every set of twins they see. We don't want to attract _any_ attention."

"Oh," replied the other, swallowing her automatic hurt reaction. "Good thinking."

^..^

An hour or two later, very late that night, Jared finally finished the last of the watches, his own – though it was strictly for emergency use; there'd been no indication the Nazis had any description of him yet. He was going to continue using the ID Pete had made for him up north. Leaning back, he stretched stiff arms and cracked his back and neck, looking around the cavernous warehouse. Most of the Resistance group had left, trickling back to their homes. Pete was puttering around his office, packing a small suitcase, putting the few remaining things in order for Charlie and watching over his daughter and Jackie, bedded down on makeshift cots in the corners.

His own Rose was sitting on the floor near his workbench, dozing against a corner made of crate and wall. He stood up and silently padded over to crouch beside her, whispering "Rose..." in her ear. Her liquid eyes fluttered open, and she smiled dreamily at him, making his heart catch. "Come here..." His voice was suddenly husky.

He took both her hands and stood again, pulling her gently up beside him, then switched one clasp to their new finger-twining and began leading her towards one side of the room. He tried a couple of doors, finding them mostly broken or hanging open, then whizzed the sonic on a locked one to reveal a dusty, abandoned office. He pulled her inside and shut the door, carefully locking it again behind them.

Then he pulled her close. "Where were we? Oh, yeah..."

Dust? What dust?

^..^

"_Stop..."_ she cried softly.

He stared at her, bereft and confused, and began to pull out.

"_No, wait, I didn't mean..."_ She tried again. _"I mean, stop for a minute. Stay here. Stay right here. I just want to feel this..."_ Arching her back underneath his frame, she held his gaze with hers, and he sank deeply inside her again with a low moan, drowning in her white heat and brown eyes. Time stood absolutely still, both of them completely _present_, just breathing together, aware of every glorious, sensual inch of contact.

And then she _squeezed_, and it sent him right over the edge. He had just enough presence of mind to bite his lips to keep from groaning so loud that the whole building would hear.

When he could see again, he raised his head off her shoulder and put his forehead to hers, panting. _"Do you need... any more proof... Rose Tyler?"_

"_Of what?"_

"_That I'm wrapped around your little finger."_

Smothering a soft snort, she bumped his head back an inch so they could look at each other. Her mouth twitched, and she deliberately slid a challenge into her eyes. _"Yeah. Prove it."_

He groaned again, then his mouth descended on hers to begin devouring her once more.

^..^

Finally sated, they lay entwined on the dusty floor, breath slowly returning to normal.

"Yes," he said suddenly, apropos of absolutely nothing.

She hooked an eyebrow at him. "Yes, what?"

He smiled, then gave a huge sigh. "Yes, I like being part human." His eyes finally opened, and he turned to twinkle them at her. "This is _so_ much better. You have _no_ idea..."

Finally catching on, she snorted, then giggled. "Hmmmm," she hummed, as a memory popped up. "You mean Cassandra was right?"

That threw him. "Cassandra? What did she say?"

Raising herself on an elbow, she did her best to pull out the "Last Human's" voice. _"So many parts... and hardly used!"_

Struck, he laughed aloud, quickly smothering the sound with his free hand. Then he looked sideways at her. "I remember something else she said now: '_You've been looking...'"_ He was a touch more successful at the voice.

She smiled mysteriously, and leaned over to snog him to silence.

^..^

Sitting up to gather their scattered clothes again, Rose finally sneezed at the dust, then looked around and laughed. "I don't know whether to sweep up the evidence, or leave it to tell the tale," she said of the distinctly suggestive patterns.

"Leave it," he said. "I like it." Then he leaned over to a relatively undisturbed patch, and took a few quick swipes with a finger.

Rose leaned over to look, and saw he'd written "JW & RMT" in the dust. She shook her head, and squeezed a tiny B in between his initials.

He hooked an eyebrow at her, thoroughly bewildered. "B?"

She grinned. "Blue!"


	13. As I Was Going To St Ives

**As I Was Going To St Ives**

As their train pulled out of Plymouth Station, the two groups of travelers heaved a silent sigh of relief. The half-hour layover and change of train had been nerve-wracking for the constant presence of roaming soldiers, but they had not been accosted, nor did any of the uniforms seem to have boarded with them.

They'd decided smaller groups would attract less attention, so Pete and his daughter were sitting together near one end of the second-class coach, while Jared, Rose, and Jackie were occupying three of the four facing seats near the other end. All were in disguise except for Jared, so Rose, sitting next to her Mum, had their disk.

"I've been thinking about that collapsing rift," Jackie began. "Does this mean you won't be able to go traveling any more, once we get home?"

Rose shot her an amused glance for the transparency of the question. "No, it just means I wouldn't be able to come back here." Jared leaned forward to catch her _sotto voce_ explanation. "Rifts exist in several worlds, but are pretty much confined to just that single world – stitching far-flung parts of it together and providing a leak to and from the Void between worlds. Where one end of a rift is anchored in nearly the same spot in two different worlds, though, that consilience seems to provide a bridge between them. That's what the cannon uses to both look and jump between. We watched a rift close or move off in another world as we first began exploring; we can't see or jump to that world any more. So when this one closes, it will just close our door here; it won't close it to other worlds, or mean that this whole world is collapsing." She suddenly grinned at Jared. "Why do I have the feeling that you're three steps ahead of me?"

"Just figuring out some whys and hows," he replied absently, shooting her a delayed return grin a moment later. "And admiring how brilliant you are for figuring it all out."

"Well, I may have helped, but I'm not the real genius behind this. Danny and the others are. We've got a good team – I'd put them against Jack's Torchwood any day." Then she turned back to reassure Jackie. "But, Mum... I'm not planning on doing any more jumping anyway. Not for a good long while, at least, and then not without a damn good reason."

Jared caught her eyes again and held them, the soft, tiny smile flashing between them acknowledging that the "damn good reason" she'd gone a-traveling before was both gone, and right here. "Don't worry, Camille," he added his half-joking reassurance – they'd returned to their aliases. "I'll do my best to give her a reason to stay home from now on."

"I'm holding you to that," came "Camille's" firm response.

The hour and a half to St Erth, their second and last layover, was uneventful, the trio passing the time in idle chitchat and watching the scenery. Jared, also keeping an eye on the other pair, was pleased to see them wrapped up in a private conversation with each other the whole way – it looked like father and daughter were managing to reconnect and reconstruct their relationship, although he knew that was a project that would take years of careful work; this was just the beginning. As they pulled out of the last station before St Erth, he saw Pete suddenly pull out his mobile phone and take a call. The Resistance fighter was well-trained; most casual observers wouldn't have seen the careful intake of breath, the suddenly tense muscles that betrayed bad news to Jared. Pete's eyes momentarily laser-locked on his, then, dropping the phone back into his pocket with a deceptively casual air, he turned his companion and made some suggestion. The two of them got up and began a stroll down the length of the car, apparently heading to the dining car. As they got closer, Pete gave his head a tiny jerk toward the door to the connecting compartment. Jared waited a few seconds before suggesting a similar destination to his ladies; as both had seen the other two pass by, they were amenable – and curious.

As soon as the three of them had passed through the door into the semi-enclosed compartment connecting that car with the next, Pete whispered urgently to Jared, "Put your watch on!" Glancing around quickly to verify they were alone, Jared pulled the watch out of his pocket and slipped it on his wrist, feeling the slight tingle as it applied his disguise, and he became a freckle-faced ginger with a long, slender, expressive face. (The change had startled even him, as it was far beyond what his donor had looked like – until he realized that the disguise-creator was working off Donna's DNA, not his Gallifreyan heritage, and that had merely reinforced the donor's ginger.)

"What's going on?" he asked, concerned.

"That call was from home base, as I'm sure you've guessed. They just found out – apparently the bears have come up with a picture of you. They think it was from the Leipzig's security cameras. Lord only knows why it took so long to find it. But apparently we also tripped something somewhere along the line – probably back in Plymouth, between trains. General Schultz himself is flying southwest as we speak, destination: St Ives. He'll get there just before we do. The local troops there for the SeaFest have already been put on alert – with your picture, and Rose's, sent in advance." His daughter's face drained of all color at the name of her former lover.

Jared was thinking fast. "We'll have to get off the train at St Erth, then – " but Pete was already shaking his head.

"I didn't know it when we boarded, but this is an excursion train for the SeaFest. They're going to back it down the tracks to St Ives from St Erth, like they did years ago – everybody else bound for Land's End will have to get off there and wait for the next train. And they'll have the station covered. You won't be able to get out without passing security."

"And since my ID is for my real face, I can't try that. Crap..." He made a rapid decision. "We'll have to split up. Rose, Jackie, you go on with Pete. I'll meet you at the Rift."

"What are you going to do?" Rose asked, worried.

"I'll just have to jump the train between stations."

She just looked at him, straight-faced. "Don't you mean 'we'?" she asked softly, deliberately echoing his words from before the Leipzig. "I go where you go. Besides," she added, "You need me to guide you to the Monument."

Tears prickling, he simply nodded.

^..^

It was too late to jump then; they were already pulling into St Erth. Pete took Jackie and his Rose forward to another car; anyone in their old car might wonder at the addition to their party. Jared and Rose, meanwhile, crammed into the tiny bathroom in the connecting compartment to wait out the stop. Coming back out as soon as they began moving again, Jared cracked open the outer door; he'd spied the perfect place for their informal disembarkment on the way in. Just a few hundred feet down the track, before the St Ives branch split off to the north, the train ran underneath a pair of bridges holding a large traffic roundabout, just far enough away and around a slight bend, out of sight from the station, but before the train had gotten up much speed.

And they were on the outside of the bend; perfect. He leapt out the door and landed, staggering a bit, then whirled around to catch Rose as she jumped out on his heels, then they dove into the thick underbrush lining the side of the small railroad gorge and let the rest of the train, pushed now by the engine, pass by. As soon as it was beyond the far bend, they crossed the tracks and climbed up in the shadow of the south bridge, and set off down the side of the road.

Away from the tracks, Rose pulled out her mobile and checked it, letting out a smothered whoop as she frantically punched a quick series of numbers. "I've got a signal! Control, are you there? …. Control, can you hear me? …. Control, come in! Damn!" She made herself stop and take a deep breath. "I hope that just means the signal's too faint yet." Holding it out at arm's length, she did a slow seep west to north – and back, zeroing in on the source of the faint signal. "That way."

"How far?"

"Three-four miles, I think. We'll have to do some serious cross-country."

"Lead on, Bad Wolf!"

She tossed him a wide grin and did so, setting a fast pace up the road – not too fast for his long legs, though; and their hands slid into their new entwined clasp as easily and unthinkingly as ever. A few hundred yards brought them to a tiny side lane angling more toward their destination, and they turned off the main road gratefully, beginning the torturous zigzag between the omnipresent hedgerows tangling up the Cornish countryside.

They were partway along a footpath leading up and over an intervening hillside when Jared suddenly stopped dead, shushing Rose before she could say anything and straining his ears, turning his head this way and that. Then he vaulted over the rock wall running beside the path and ran along the tiny deer path leading into the thick brush on the other side, coming to a screeching halt after a couple dozen long strides. Rose barely kept herself from plowing into him from behind, which was a good thing, as it would have sent him right over the edge of a large, deep – very deep – hole; they'd found one of the many abandoned mines dotting the area.

She opened her mouth to ask why they were here, when the answer floated up out of the hole: a pitiful whimpering. Without a word, they both dropped to their hands and knees and leaned cautiously out over the abyss, and spotted a hapless, half-grown black puppy cowering on a narrow ledge about eight feet down. It spied them at the same moment, and raised a hopeful clatter, wriggling so hard that Rose was afraid it would send itself over the edge.

They looked at each other, but there was no question of If, only How. "Stay here," began Jared, but she cut him off.

"No, lower me down. Look, you can pull me back up easily, but I can't do you. Besides, I think it's my turn down the bottomless pit, isn't it?" She grinned at him, and he glanced back down at the puppy.

"Well, he looks a hell of a lot more friendly than the last beast. You can handle him."

Giving both her hands to him, she put her back to the hole and then carefully stepped back and over the edge, feeling for footholds one at a time. A moment later and she was on the ledge next to the puppy. "Come here, wolf cub. Oh, poor thing – Jared, I think it's hurt. He's holding his front paw up funny."

"Here, hand him up." She managed to bend over sideways and pick up the dog by the scruff – that ledge really was _narrow_; she didn't even want to think about the air below her feet – and held him on up. Jared grabbed him with both hands and put him on the ground beside him, then quickly reached back for Rose – he was trying not to think about it, either.

Coming up was a bit harder than going down – there was a bit of a bulge in the way. Her wrists and elbows were scraping on the rock. She was momentarily stymied – her watch had caught on a sharp, rough edge – when suddenly the catch sprang free, and the watch fell into the depths. She felt the shimmy dance over her skin as her disguise disappeared with it, and they stopped cold, staring horrified into each other's eyes.

"Shit!" she breathed. Then she shook her head, moved her foot up to the next foothold, and he pulled her the rest of the way up, back onto blessedly solid ground. He didn't let go of her hands for a moment, until they both caught their breath.

Rose looked around for their prize. "Where'd you go, cub? Oh, there he is." The puppy had apparently had enough of the hole, and was watching them from a safe distance, several feet away. He wagged his tail and wriggled at their attention, again.

Jared grinned and stood, walking over to the pup to scoop him up and examine him.

"Awwww, now isn't that sweet!" came a sarcastic male voice from the path back to the wall. Rose and Jared both whirled around – and the solid ground rocked under their feet.

Standing at the gap were three uniformed soldiers, pointing their rifles straight at them.


	14. The Clotted Cream Thickens

**The Clotted Cream Thickens**

"Dad?" Rose whispered. The three of them were clustered near the door at the far end of the next railroad car. Pete's face was a mask, but those who knew him could read the tension and worry.

"The timing is all off," he replied, so low that the words didn't travel beyond the ladies' shoulders. "How could he have known where we were headed? Even if we were spotted at Plymouth, he still had to have left before then to be almost here now. And I'm quite sure we didn't blow it before we left Birmingham." He glanced down at his daughter, eyes deeply worried. "Is there an informant in the Group?"

An icy shock ran through her frame. His meaning was clear. Holding his eyes, she lifted her chin, and didn't dignify the subtext with an answer. "Because of the last time she was here. I was on the other end of that time, too, remember? The two of you were tracked down here, she disappeared, you were spotted and then lost. He had agents scouring the area for weeks."

"Did he ever mention the Knolls Monument?"

She thought hard. "No... no, he never did. I think the agents' final guess was that she left by boat, then you doubled back. I'd wager they'll be concentrating on the port today." She took a deep breath and bit the bullet. "Dad... when could I have sent word? How? I was searched thoroughly for any kind of bug; I'm clean. If you've got an informant... it isn't me. But I'm not aware of any information he ever got that could have come from your group."

He stared at her a moment longer, then took a deep breath and let it out. "Sorry, princess. I'm just not used to this..."

"Trusting me, you mean?" She snorted softly, shaking her head. "Well, I'd say you had reason."

Jackie had been silent through this whole exchange; the magnitude of the situation coming ever more clear. Would she ever make it home to her husband and her tiny son? Would Rose – _her_ Rose? She turned her head and looked out the window, tears prickling.

"Hey," Pete whispered, his arm slipping around her shoulders. "I promised, didn't I? You'll get there." He'd known somehow just what she was thinking. Just like her own Pete. Both of them.

He glanced out the window again, watching the train chug around the wide curve that brought it from the river it had been following to its final route parallel to the shoreline a hundred yards off. "Hang on, here we go. We're coming into Carbis Bay. That station is actually closer to the Monument that St Ives. We can cut out a whole lot of walking, and soldiers, by getting off here."

"Shouldn't we be slowing down?" Rose asked nervously a minute later – just as the station appeared alongside the train, then rapidly disappeared behind them. The train hadn't stopped.

"OK..." Pete finally said. "Longer walk, that's all. We'll still be fine. It's not that much further." Jackie glanced sideways at him, a tiny smile of amusement teasing the corner of her mouth. Yeah. Underneath the tough Resistance Fighter exterior, he was still the same Pete.

Just a few minutes later, they pulled into the station at St Ives, last stop on the line. They piled out of the car along with the several dozens of other holiday-makers, then Pete pulled them to the far side of the platform. "We need to be heading south and a little west," he told them. "We'll take the southern exit out of here."

They turned and began swimming against the tide of those headed to the waterfront festival, only to be stopped a moment later by another young man. "That exit's blocked, mate. You'll have to go out the other way."

Looking down the track, they saw the exit was indeed barricaded – with barbed wire and an armed guard in the shadows, no less. "I guess they're serious..." Pete mumbled as they turned back and rejoined the flow.

It took almost an hour to clear the security checkpoint at the northern exit; the soldiers stationed there were checking everyone's ID and travel papers. "Doesn't seem like much of a holiday," Jackie grumbled.

"There's been trouble at the SeaFest before," Pete told her. His raised eyebrows told her what kind of trouble: the kind his own group liked to kick up.

"Then why haven't they shut it down?"

He snorted. "Politics," was his only reply.

All three of them were extremely tense as their turn arrived; trying not to show it. Pete was excruciatingly aware of the papers several of the soldiers held; papers with photos on them. He couldn't quite make them out without obviously craning his neck, but he could guess whose. Luckily, his team of forgers were top-notch, and both their papers and their disguises held up fine; netting them only a cursory glance before they were all waved through the barricade.

They followed along with the crowd for a few blocks before cutting left up one of the tiny alleys connecting the bayside road with the one up the ridge, then turning again to follow that road out of town toward the Knolls Monument, though its twenty-foot granite spire wasn't visible from that point. They passed a hospital, some shops, and bunches of houses crowded together on the hills rolling away from the beach – and then, just about even with the train station below them again, they strolled around a tight bend in the narrow road and another barricaded checkpoint came into view, at the far end of the tarmac canyon between a high retaining wall holding back the hill on one side and a row of tall houses on the other.

Pete grabbed both their hands and pulled them through an open gate, finding themselves in a tiny private garden in front of a gaily-painted green house. As Rose and Jackie leaned against the wall, catching their breath, he craned his neck to peek through the wrought iron fencing atop it at the soldiers manning the barricade now just a dozen yards off. Cars were inching their way into the town past the barricade and then on down the one-way street, the drivers showing their annoyance with their tooting horns (once they were safely past).

He felt a strange tingle on his skin, but didn't think anything of it, as pair of obvious locals walked past the garden to the barricade. An argument broke out between them and the soldiers, as they repeatedly pointed to their own house just a few yards off, but were firmly denied. Finally the soldiers began fingering their rifles, and the locals took the hint, muttering angrily to each other as they backtracked into town.

Pete ducked back down again as they came even with the fence, coming face-to-face with Rose – and suddenly he gasped. Her disguise was flickering in and out – and there was that tingle on his own skin again. _"Shit!" _he swore in a hoarse whisper, diving a hand into his pants pocket to pull out the transport disk. Jackie grabbed it – she was more familiar with it, anyway – and gave it a quick once-over, then stared back at him. She didn't need to say it, all three disguises fizzled away simultaneously. The disk had run out of power.

"Half an hour to recharge?" he asked, and she nodded. "Shit." He craned his neck over the wall again, wilting when he saw the papers in the soldiers hands. Even if his own natural face wasn't on it, and he was sure Jackie's wasn't, there was no doubt that Rose's was.

Trapped. They couldn't even slip out of the garden and back down the road without being spotted.

Jackie sank back against the wall again, all the terror she'd been holding back threatening to break over her head. _I don't want to stay here! I want to go home!_

Rose could almost read her thoughts. Suddenly she simply made up her mind – it wasn't an active decision, it was simply there. She reached out and gave her mother's double a quick, hard hug, then turned to her father. "Daddy? I love you. Get her home safe." And she turned and walked resolutely back to the gate a few steps away.

Pete was flabbergasted. "Rose!" he whispered sharply. She just turned and looked at him. He took a breath, his mouth open to protest... but it died on his lips at her expression. Without thinking, he took the disk back from Jackie and tossed it to his daughter. "The Monument this afternoon... or the old church on the Island tonight after dark." A beat. "Or I _will_ come after you." His intense whisper made it a solemn vow.

She'd caught the disk without thinking, and stuffed it into a pocket along with her watch. A slow sunrise smile crept across her face at his fierce promise, and she nodded.

Then she turned and slipped out the gate, and began slouching towards the barricade with her hands in her hoodie pockets, head down, ostensibly not watching where she was going. She was only a few steps away when the shouts told her they'd finally seen her – seen and recognized her, whether from the papers they held or her fame as the English Rose, she neither knew nor cared. She jerked her head up, "startled", then whirled about to run back down the road towards town, not daring to glance at the garden gate her Dad was hiding behind. Boots were pounding on the pavement behind her; she couldn't spare the second to see if it was all the soldiers, she could only hope.

As she rounded the tight curve again, she saw the perfect opportunity and grabbed it. Without warning, she swerved and darted across the road in front of a lorry that had just made it through the barricade. The driver slammed on his brakes to avoid the crazy blonde, as scripted, and the truck skidded sideways, coming to rest completely across the narrow gap, blocking it entirely.

Now she did glance back, grinning at the soldiers piled up behind the lorry, stymied. It only took a second, though, for one of them to begin slithering awkwardly underneath the blockage.

So she took off her brakes and RAN, darting down alleys and side streets whenever she found them. Most of the soldiers were left behind after just a turn or two, but one – the first one under the lorry – stubbornly stayed on her trail, just a short distance behind. She made it several blocks away, almost back to the main festival area before a stitch suddenly clawed into her side, and she staggered. She clutched her side and lurched on, rounding the blind corner of a tea room advertising Cornish Cream Tea in the window –

– and ran headlong into the arms of a tall, muscular soldier leading an entire squad up the street. He grabbed and steadied her, then peered closely at her face. A predatory smile split his mouth, and his hands clamped tight on her arms. "Guten Tag, Fraulein Tyler. General Schultz ist für Sie suchen."


	15. Blue Wolf's Choice

**_A/N:_**_ my deepest apologies for the long delay - my computer began singing the Terminal Blues, and I had to get a new one - with the attendant fun of reinstalling software and transferring hundreds of files. Happy happy joy joy._

_Plus, this chapter took longer to write than most. My first ever real fight scene, it took some careful choreography. But here 'tis at last. Enjoy.

* * *

_

**Blue Wolf's Choice**

For a split second, both Rose and Jared thought the speaker – obviously the one standing a pace in front – was a local guy (he'd certainly sounded like it), perhaps even a Resistance member who'd come to meet them? Those hopes were dashed a beat later, as they took in the Army uniforms; then one of the other two barked something in German, and he answered in the same fluent vein: "Nein, er ist nicht der Mann." Both of them were looking at Jared. "He's not the man we're looking for, Hans. But _her..._" And he turned back to his former perusal of Rose, his eyes parading insultingly over her curves. "You're either Rose Tyler, or the imposter. Which is it?"

Rose lifted her chin and didn't deign to answer. Her heart was racing. Singing a pop song wasn't going to get them out of this predicament. Neither was screaming – they were deep in the hedgerows, and anyone near enough to hear would be of questionable help – and neither was running. They couldn't outrun bullets, not on their best days, and those were semiautomatics being pointed at them if she wasn't mistaken.

She took a chance, and shot a quick look at Jared, six steps to her left. _Thank god I gave him the disk; his disguise is holding._ He might have felt her glance, because he returned it; his eyes betraying his racing thoughts, running the same frantic paths as hers. The rescued puppy in his arms was whimpering softly again, the whites of his eyes showing at the three newcomers.

"You think silence will help you?" their captor's voice slithered through the air. "I don't think you'll stay silent for long. Hans, cover him." At his leader's gesture, the second soldier stalked over to stand beside Jared, stopping with his rifle pointed directly at his new single heart from a bare foot away, then he turned his head slightly to keep an eye on the fun, glancing back and forth to enjoy his captive's reactions, too.

Suddenly the pup switched from whimpering to menacing growls, only slightly comical from his age and baby teeth. Jared glanced down at him in his arms; the dog was definitely not happy with the man in front of them. "What did you do to him?" he asked, half stalling tactic, half real concern.

The leader replied derisively. "Tossed the nuisance mutt down the hole. Maybe he wasn't as worthless as I thought though – he made pretty good bait for you." He'd strutted over to stand before Rose, his feet planted wide with disdain, while the third man trailed behind, covering her with his rifle from a couple of feet beyond his squad leader's shoulder. Rose and Jared were neatly boxed in by rifles and the mine shaft.

"Now," the leader drawled. "Kleinen Schätz. Did you really think just dying your hair that ugly brown would hide you from us? Which little bird are you, eh? The one who flew away from the General's warm bed? Or the one who managed to make two officers disappear from the Leipzig? Hmm?"

Rose remained silent, determined not to play his little game. Her mind was still racing, looking for a way out.

Without warning, he reached out with his massive left hand and wrapped it around her throat, then leaned in over her, letting his six-foot-two Aryan godhood do its usual work of intimidating the woman. For a moment, his piercing blue eyes reminded Rose of her first doctor's; a thought that was washed away immediately by his stinking beer breath flooding her face. She blinked, realizing that he was at least half drunk; the other two probably were, as well. Drunk and randy: his eyes were drifting down to peer down her shirt front. Her skin crawled.

"Take your hands off me," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"Oh, come now, kleinen Schätz. You can be friendlier than that. _Much_ friendlier. Everyone knows how much you love the Germans. Even turned in your own father – and gave your own mother over for our fun. Too bad I missed out on that. But you'll make it up to me now, won't you?" Apparently he'd decided she was the "real" Rose. Finally dropping his rifle softly on the ground beside him, he snaked his right hand around her waist – keeping his left on her throat – and pulled her tight against him.

"Over my dead body," snarled Jared. Forgetting the rifle trained on his heart, he started to step forward towards the ugly scene – but Hans shifted in front of him, cocking his rifle and pointing it right between Jared's eyes.

The leader leered at Jared again. "Oh, no, Ginger. First, you get to watch this. The last thing you'll ever see is your little songbird... _entertaining _us." His voice managed to put the most obscene connotation possible on the innocuous little word, before turning shockingly casual. "We'll kill you after. After we've _all_ had our fun," he went on, his eyes flicking towards Jared's guard. "I think Hans fancies you for himself, don't you, Hans?" He spat out another question in German, and Hans grinned evilly, his eyes parading down Jared's own body just as the leader's had Rose's. The third soldier snickered loudly, while Jared's eyes showed his disgust.

Turning back to Rose, the leader suddenly pushed her sideways toward the third man. "Hold her, Dieter!" As she staggered, trying to keep her feet, Dieter swiftly slung his rifle on his shoulder, then grabbed her by the upper arms, almost wrenching them out of their sockets as he hauled her upright again. The leader, meanwhile, had unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged out of it, then flung it towards a nearby branch before padding dangerously over to his intended victim again. His eyes never left her chest. He reached with both hands towards her shirt – and all hell broke loose.

The puppy, still absently clutched to Jared's chest, had had enough. His growls turned to snaps at Hans, and he began struggling to reach him, squirming out of Jared's arms and jumping to the ground, where he lunged at his target's ankles. Hans swiftly brought his rifle down from Jared's forehead and went to reverse it, preparing to connect the gun's butt with the pup's brainpan – and Jared saw his chance. Echoing the pup's lunge, he grabbed the rifle and began grappling with Hans.

He realized immediately that he was outmatched. Although shorter by several inches, Hans outweighed him by a stone – and was obviously trained in hand-to-hand combat, something which, Jared reflected in a tiny, distant corner of his mind, was conspicuously absent from his own C.V. He held on to the rifle with a strength borne of sheer survivalist desperation, even as the soldier swung him violently around.

Jared wasn't the only one who saw and grabbed an opening. Both of Rose's captors swung their heads at the first sounds of the struggle – and Rose almost grinned as she leaned back into Dieter and kicked the leader's crotch as hard as she could. He went down with a strangled scream. Then she collapsed her knees, using her own weight to pull Dieter off-balance, then swiftly reversed direction, pushing up off the ground to knock him backwards. Both of them went sprawling; Dieter let her go as he tried to break his fall.

It wasn't skill, training, or even conscious planning; just good old luck: they hadn't moved very far away from the gaping, unfenced hole in the ground that was the old abandoned mine shaft. Rose had managed to knock Dieter just far enough that – although he frantically scrabbled with his hands to try to catch the edge, he missed, and and his momentum carried him over the side and down into the dark. His echoing scream was cut off by a dull, muffled thump from the bottom of the deep shaft.

Jared found himself flung into the thick trunk of a nearby tree, bruising his ribs and nearly knocking the wind out of his too-slender frame. How he managed to keep his grip on the rifle, he never knew. Hans paused and grinned evilly again at his expression, then glanced down in annoyance at the not-quite-knee-high puppy, again nipping at his ankle. He aimed a kick at the dog, which barely connected with its side – just enough. It gave a single yelp and slunk off into the bushes.

The further casual abuse inflamed Jared anew. Rage and adrenaline flooded through him, and he twisted his upper body, finally wrenching the rifle out of Hans' hands, then continued the twist to bring the gun back around to smash into the side of the German's head. Hans dropped without a whimper, and Jared knew instantly that the sound and feeling of the impact would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. Nevertheless, he gave the rifle a tiny toss into the air to switch his grip, swiveling back around to go to Rose's rescue once again.

And froze.

Rose had fallen onto her back as she slipped out of Dieter's flailing hands, then struggled to a half-sit, leaning now on her hands as she stared frozenly across the few feet of bare ground at the squad leader. He, crouched on all fours, had recovered from her kick just enough to pull his pistol out of his holster. He was pointing it straight between Rose's eyes, his face twisted into purpling ugliness with pain and fury.

He glanced swiftly over to see who had been victorious in the other struggle. "Drop it," he hissed out of the side of his mouth, cocking the pistol with a sharp double click.

Jared sagged, the wind knocked out of him again at the sight. He leaned over slowly, preparing to drop the rifle to the ground.

And the wolf cub attacked.

Streaking out of the bushes, silent but deadly, the half-grown puppy Rose had just pulled from the mine shaft launched himself into the defense of his rescuer. Aiming not for the soldier's throat – perhaps instinctively knowing it was too large for his jaws – he went for his outstretched arm instead, sinking his small-bit-sharp fangs through the light cotton shirt sleeve and deep into flesh. More importantly, his momentum knocked the arm sideways, so the bullet shot from the pistol as the soldier's finger spasmodically tightened on the trigger screamed past Rose's ear rather than blasting through her skull. She reacted instantly, throwing herself back down again and rolling away from the bullet's path.

Three yards away, time telescoped for Jared, and he watched the attack in slow motion. A single coherent thought blazed a smoking trail across his mind. _This is why I'm here._

He jerked the rifle back up, swung it into line, and fired.


	16. Stained Glass and Regrets

**Stained Glass and Regrets**

The Church of St Ia was a fine old gothic pile of stalwart Anglican gloom, filled with local marble, properly unpadded hard wooden pews, some truly outstanding examples of eighteenth-century stained glass — and, at the moment, a misplaced German General brooding darkly in the last row. His wheat-blonde, (respectfully hatless), immaculately combed head swiveled sharply as the door creaked open behind him, ready to chastise whichever hapless grunt had dared disrupt his solitude, but the words died on his lips when a tall Korporal marched in with the General's own mistress's arm clutched firmly in one paw.

"Liebchen!" Schultz cried out automatically, then spat out the command to the Korporal to leave them. As the door closed again behind the soldier, Schultz strode swiftly across the marble floor, then halted abruptly two steps away. Rose had neither moved nor spoken, and was staring at him warily, almost as if she didn't recognize him. "Rose? Is that you?"

Rose sighed, then shook her head in disbelief that he was actually here. "Yes, Karl. It's me, Munchkin," she added, confirming her identity with the use of her own private nickname for him — not for his size (he was two or three centimeters taller than herself), but for the way she'd first butchered the German pronunciation of Munich, his home town. He'd teased her terribly, and it had become their private joke. "What are you doing here?" she added, bewildered.

He stared, his eyes rounding in amazement. How could she not know? "I came for you!" he declared earnestly. "I only want you back!" As she continued to stare, he pressed on, waving a hand dismissively. "I don't care that your father is with the Resistance — yes, I know who he is. I don't care if you've been involved with this business of your doppel. I don't care if you've been giving him information. I will protect you from all of that. I don't care whether you left on your own, or he kidnapped you. All I want is for you to come back to me."

Her eyes had grown round in return, her jaw dropping open in disbelief. "You have got to be joking," she replied breathlessly.

"Does this look like I am making a joke?" He pulled a tiny box out of his uniform pants pocket and opened it to show her the contents. A huge diamond caught the dim light, shattered it into sparkles and tossed it across the babtistry font. Taking the last two steps, he reached a tender finger and pulled up her chin, dragging her eyes from the bauble to meet his again. "I want you to marry me, Liebchen."

She was flabbergasted. After everything that had happened in the last few days, the last twenty-four hours... All she could think of was _If he'd asked me a week ago, I would have __leapt__ at the chance. Now..._ Her head began to shake No of its own accord, in negation or disbelief she hadn't the wit to say.

"I know I'm almost twice your age, Liebchen," he continued pleading his cause. "I know we are from completely different backgrounds," he rolled his eyes at his own words, "and I know that's a ridiculous understatement. I don't care. You have made me so very happy these past five years. I thought you were happy, too." He paused, then probed gently, "Weren't you happy?"

_Was I?_ Despite what she'd told her father the day before, it hadn't been all bad. Very little of it was, in fact. The mistress of a General had many perks, that was certain: fine food, clothes, jewelry, a house, a car, the ability to travel freely, enforced respect from the occupying forces — on the surface, at least. And her singing, too. A life of comfort. And if she married him, all that would only get better.

But was that what she really wanted?

_What about Dad?_ What about the love and affection, the support and caring, of her own father? What about the memory of her Mum? What about forgiveness for her sins against both of them?

And what about her self-respect?

How could a comfortable life, with a man she was fond of, but didn't truly love, make up for all of that?

Her eyes had drifted down, staring at the ring and all it represented. Now she raised them to meet his again, and he saw the answer within them before she even spoke. "I'm sorry, Karl. I can't marry you. Yes, I was happy... but it's not enough. It's not what I need."

"If you walk out that door without me, I can no longer protect you," he warned. "If you are picked up with him, or your doppel, you will be tried, and you will be shot. There will be nothing I can do."

"I understand," she nodded.

"I don't!" he cried. "How can you turn away, and for what? Was it all a lie, all along?"

"No, Karl! It wasn't a lie." She was feeling her way through the discoveries as she spoke. "In the beginning, it was a way to escape a nightmare, that's true. But I was happy, with you. But now... This... This is a way to find a dream."

"A dream? Of what?"

She was silent for a long minute, her eyes unfocused. He couldn't know it, but behind them, a vision of herself was parading through her mind: a parallel self, strong and assured, who wanted something so badly, who loved someone so much, that she shot herself through parallel worlds, in and out of wars and disasters, to find him again. She wasn't sure what the problem was now between them, but there was no doubt of the strength and courage of that other Rose.

And she wanted to be that strong, that brave, too.

She focused once more on her former lover's face. "A dream of myself."

He still didn't understand, but he knew finality when he heard it. He reached out with one hand to caress her cheek one last time, stepping closer on impulse to kiss her goodbye. She put both hands gently on his chest, not pushing him away, and then slid them softly down to his waist...

… and came up with his pistol, sliding it out of the holster on his belt. She didn't point it at him, but held it between them for him to see, then took two steps backwards, holding the gun in both hands and pointing it at the marble floor.

He was flabbergasted, staring at this woman transformed before him. Then he shook his head. "You won't shoot me." His voice was sure, stating a fact.

A tiny, knowing smile teased her mouth. "I won't have to. Will I?" she asked, confirming rather than querying.

He gazed at her for another long, silent moment, then took a deep, sighing breath, deliberately letting the gun go. "You gave me five wonderful years, Liebchen. I will give you five minutes. But that's all I can give you."

Nodding, she began turning towards the front doors, but he stopped her. "Go out the back doors," he told her, dipping his head towards the altar and the priest door into the sacristy beyond. "There's no one out that way."

Tears unexpectedly prickling at this last gesture of his love, she whispered, "Goodbye, Karl," for the last time, then began walking down the aisle, tucking the pistol into the back of her pants.

She only made it a few rows away before he called out, "Rose!" When she turned, he surprised her by tossing her the box with the ring. "Keep it. Wear it to remember me by. I don't want it anymore."

She managed to react fast enough to catch it, then simply nodded again. There was nothing left to say. Almost running through the nave, she slipped through the sacristy door and closed it softly behind her. Then she leaned against it for a moment, catching her breath against the unexpected pain in her heart. She did care for him. She just cared more for herself, and her Dad.

Stuffing the ring box into her pocket without looking at it, she was startled to feel a vibration there, a soft buzzing reaching her ears at the same moment. She pulled out the object emitting both — the transport disk. The light on one side showed it had finished recharging. _Finally, something's going right!_ She pulled her watch out and slipped it on her wrist, feeling the tingle of the disguise dance across her skin. She turned towards the outside door, but the row of coat hooks caught her eye. Hanging amidst the choir robes was a large plaid woolen shawl, which she quickly exchanged for her light blue jacket, wrapping the wool around her and covering up her shirt. The jeans and shoes would do; they were utterly unremarkable.

Transformation complete, Rose slipped out into the afternoon sun, and slunk swiftly through the deserted graveyard to the next street over behind the church, turning south out of the wrought iron gate. If she hurried, perhaps she could still catch Dad at the Monument — and perhaps have time to say goodbye to Mum's double — and hers.

She got a block away before she ran into trouble. Coming out of the shadow of the high wall surrounding a garden, she almost froze. There, not ten steps away, walking directly towards her, was the same patrol she'd run into before. Headed by the same beefy Korporal.

She took a deep breath, and forced her feet to keep going, lifting her head brazenly and walking straight towards the soldiers.


	17. Echoes, Past and Future

**Echoes, Past and Future**

The thunder of the single rifle shot rolled through the tiny clearing, seeming to echo back from the trees and the open pit and their own nerve endings and eardrums over and over, long past any reasonable time period. Without looking, without thinking, Jared and Rose each knew instinctively that shot would echo in their separate psyches until their deaths.

On her stomach, trembling, her face in the dirt, Rose finally pushed herself up and rolled over again, looking first at the German whose pistol she'd been staring down just moments before. He was sprawled sideways where the bullet's impact had flung him, arms and legs akimbo, unmoving. Something about his very stillness made it seem like he'd never moved, never breathed, never threatened rape and mayhem on another. She couldn't see his face, and didn't want to.

The puppy was still tugging on his arm, growling, but she didn't have the heart or wit to call him off yet. Instead, she slowly turned her head to look at Jared, afraid of what might meet her eyes.

He hadn't moved a millimeter, the rifle still clutched to his shoulder, his wide brown eyes locked onto the soldier's cooling corpse. The creeping realization of what he'd done showed in his shocked, haunted expression – the same expression, Rose realized, that had been on the Doctor's face on the Crucible as Davros taunted him. At least this time, she understood why. With that comprehension, cold, primal fear flooded through her frame. _What have I done? Will __he__ turn away from me now, too? I won't survive losing him again. It'll destroy me. It'll destroy both of us._

Knowing instinctively that the next few minutes were as crucial to _them_ as to _him_, she stiffly picked herself up off the ground and went to his side. "Jared?" she whispered. He didn't move, didn't blink, even as she stretched the watch's expandable strap to turn it over on his wrist, stripping off the disguise so she could see his real face. His shell-shocked expression didn't change – and seeing it sink and cement itself deep into those so-familiar features sent the ice zinging through her veins again. "Jared? … Look at me." She moved in front of him, blocking his view of the body, and put a hand on his cheek. "Look at me."

His eyes slowly refocused on hers, and he took a quick, gasping breath. "Rose..." His hands moved convulsively, as if reaching for her, before he suddenly remembered what he already held, and he looked down at the rifle in horror. She quickly reached with both hands and gently plucked it out of his, then twisted around and hurled it into the open mine shaft. Then she turned back, and without a word they went into each other's arms and held on tight. For several endless, silent minutes they simply stood there, and she tried to will some warmth into his heart as well as his body.

It was the puppy who broke them up again. It finally penetrated his teenage canine mind that his prey was out of action, and he trotted proudly over and sat beside his chosen new humans, patting their legs with one paw and whimpering for attention. They turned simultaneously and looked down at him, then Rose melted down beside the dog to hug and pet him – awkwardly, for both his size and his enthusiastic licking of her face. Jared knelt down on his other side a beat later, and they both (hoarsely and haltingly) lavished praise on their little black furry guardian.

The act of petting the dog seemed to finish the job of restoring some semblance of equilibrium inside both of their minds, and after a bit they were able to push them into a forward gear again. Rose looked at Jared first, "We need to get going."

"Do you think we should..." Jared gestured vaguely at the two remaining bodies and then the hole in the ground. She hesitated, then nodded. Taking a pair of deep, fortifying breaths, they made as short a job of it as they could, taking each by turn by the arms and legs and swinging them over the side while trying not to think, look, or hear. Then Jared quickly collected the other guns and threw them in, as well, as hard as he could fling them. He stood staring into the inky blackness a moment longer. An odd sensation on his wrist drew his attention, and he focused in on the upturned watch, realizing only then that he was back to himself. He ripped the watch off his arm and flung it in after the rest, then finally turned to Rose. "I don't think that's quite what he meant by 'making me better'." His voice was quiet, bitter – but she knew from his face that the bitterness wasn't directed at her.

An echo of pain washed over her again, pain for both of them, with tired fury on its heels. "Well, he shouldn't have left us in this cesspit then, should he?" she shot back wearily, then immediately stepped closer, putting her arms around his neck again and forcing him to look at her. "Jared... I never wanted either of us to be in a situation like this. Never. But I can't condemn you, or me, either. And I don't think any rational person could." She shut her mouth on the obvious corollary, of whether the Doctor was entirely rational on this or any other subject, or whether it even mattered any more.

He probably followed her thoughts, anyway, but wasn't willing to open that can of worms himself. Instead, he pulled her close and hugged her tightly, then released her, turning together and moving at last towards the gap back down to their former path again. Her hand slid down his arm and clasped his hand, their fingers intertwining automatically.

The puppy gave a short, happy bark and fell in at their heels.

As they scrambled back over the stone wall to the path, Rose called to him, "Come on, wolf cub!" She grimaced. "We definitely need to find a better name than that."

"How about Tock?" suggested Jared.

"Tock?" She put a world of question into the name.

He gave her a twisted, sideways grin-turned-grimace. "Well, I broke my other promise back there, about your watch. You lost the tick. But at least you came out with a Tock!"

She stopped, staring, then burst out laughing – only slightly hysterical; Jared joining in a beat later. And so Tock got his name.

^..^

Half an hour later, the three of them were cautiously picking their way up the back side of the hill towards the Knolls Monument, a gleaming obelisk of polished local granite stabbing twenty feet into the Cornish sky. It had been there for centuries, a self-erected stone paean to one man's hubris. In Rose's imagination, it had become a gigantic pushpin, holding the worlds together at that spot.

She was leading them not towards the spire, however, but towards the end of a small, oft-neglected side path that wound around from the front of the monument to a partially-hidden entryway into the back side of the hill itself: the burial crypt. It had been used over the centuries as a temporary cache for smugglers, illicit worship of various out-of-official-favor gods or sects, clandestine trysts, secret meetings of all types, and today would see another, as the two approaching hoped desperately to find the other three already there.

They were only one-third disappointed.

As Rose reached the doorless entry, Jared stopped her with a silent hand, pulling her back and taking the lead himself, slipping almost noiselessly along one wall and peering into the gloom. He paused for a moment and concentrated on forcing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, then crept to the end of the entry tunnel and peeked inside. Almost immediately, he sighed quickly in relief, then called out softly before stepping into the chamber, "Pete! It's us!"

"Thank God!" came the reply, as Pete and Jackie stepped out of the corner to greet them – Jackie and Rose rushing past the two men to clutch each other close.

Pete held his hand out to Jared, who took it gratefully, then looked sharply around the twenty-foot-square chamber. "Where's Rose?"

His question broke the women apart, Rose pulling sharply back to add her own quick inspection before staring at Pete. The redhead shook his head, his pain and fear for his daughter showing clearly. "We were separated. Our disk died and we were trapped. She led a patrol off of us."

Jaws dropping, Jared and Rose glanced at each other – one quick look was all it took. They started to whirl towards the entrance again. "Then let's go find her!" Rose began – but Pete was already holding both hands up, stopping them.

"No. You three need to get home while you still can. Go on, get Jackie home safe. I will find her – I _will_ find her. Don't worry about that." He stepped over to Rose. "Please, Ulva. Take your Mum home. Get her home safe, before..." _Before she suffers the same fate as my Jackie,_ his eyes added. "I'll find my daughter. The entire Reich won't stop me." No one doubted that quiet, solemn vow.

Rose finally nodded, unwilling but accepting the situation. She pulled out her mobile phone again, checked the signal – strong now – and pushed the combo to call up Control back in Beta Universe. As Pete slipped an arm around his late wife's double and led her to one side for a final goodbye, Rose turned away, not wanting to watch the scene, and took a few steps away towards the front corner next to the entryway. "Control? Are you there? Danny? John? Control, come in!" Still no response. "Come on... where are you guys?" She started going through the process again, checking the mobile, the signal, punching in the combo.

"_Gotcha_."

All four whirled towards the entrance as the new voice insinuated itself into the air. A lanky, disheveled figure detached from the tunnel's shadow and stepped into the chamber, preceded by a pistol aimed directly at Rose's head.

Her eyes grew round, then hard as steel, and she hissed out his name with supreme disdain. There was no mistaking this slimeball, the young Rose's bane in any universe.

"Jimmy Stones..."


	18. The Price to be Paid

_**A/N:** Please note I've added a warning for explicit language for this chapter. Turns out Mr Stones is a foul-mouthed little dirtbag. (The warning may be overkill, but better safe than sorry.)_

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**The Price to be Paid**

"You stupid cunt! Did you really think you could just walk away like that?" Once the dim, reflected light from the entrance tunnel was illuminating Jimmy, rather than being blocked by him, it showed his German Army uniform's inherent spiffiness was losing the battle against his seedy, cut-rate desperation. A sharp eye could even pick out the telltale marks of a recent reduction in rank: pinholes around his embroidered insignia betrayed that a larger one – with more stripes – had been replaced by the current singleton.

He slouched across the burial crypt to threaten Rose with his small revolver, holding it out at arm's length as if that made it deadlier. A foot scrape betrayed Jared's attempt to shift closer, and Jimmy swung that arm wildly around to cast the threat over all. "Get back! Over there, you!" Both men had the presence of mind to step slightly in front of Jackie as they shuffled back a step in response; no use in her presence muddying up the poor man's already dense mind further.

"What are you talking about, Jimmy?" Rose drew his attention back away from the other three. "I didn't walk away from you."

"Schultz wants you back, God knows why. He could have any stupid bottle-blonde cunt singer he wants, but he wants you. So he gets you." Rose would have felt a whole lot safer if he didn't have the habit of emphasizing every other word with a sharp stab of the gun at her head. "You are _not_ going to ruin my career!"

That diverted her from the gun, and she gaped at him. "Your _career?"_ She spluttered, flabbergasted, shaking her head. "Not much of a career, is it, if it depends on somebody else's bed staying warm. You know what?" she went on, realizing the depth of the truth even as it came from her mouth. "You are absolutely pathetic, Jimmy Stones, in _any_ universe. Look at you. Your entire C.V. consists of getting one foolish teenage girl drunk so she unknowingly betrays her own parents – and then 'providing' her to your own commanding officer. You know what that makes you, Jimmy?" She leaned in close to deliver the punch line, imbuing it with all the disgust she felt for both versions of the worm. "A one trick pimp!"

In retrospect, she probably should have seen it coming. His other hand came flying up from his side to backhand her hard across the face. As the force of it knocked her sideways, Jared took a quick step forward again, only to be stopped once more by the pistol whipping back around. He didn't step back this time, his narrowing eyes promising a painful retribution as soon as chance allowed.

Jimmy kept the gun pointing at the other three as he turned his head back to look at his former girlfriend – and he suddenly focused in on her now-bared neck. His free hand grabbed at it (Rose was getting heartily tired of being throttled), keeping her head pushed to the side. "Where's my brand, you little cunt? I know you couldn't... Oh!" His eyes cleared as the realization sunk in. "You're not Rose. You're that bitch double they were talking about. Well maybe I should give _you_ a brand, too, to teach you to keep your filthy mouth shut, and make you a matched set."

Pete couldn't stay silent at that. "You mean _you're_ the one who gave Rose that scar?"

Jimmy turned and glared triumphantly across the chamber, his face twisted and ugly. "I brand everything that's mine, Pops. Now you.. shut... up."

Rose slapped his hand off her neck, standing up straight again to give him her coldest stare. It didn't phase him. He brought the gun back once more and put it right up against her temple. "Where's the other cunt, then, huh? Where is she? You're _both_ going back to the General. He should like that, having both of you in his bed. But maybe I should break you in first, like I did her. Huh? Should I do that, bitch? Break you in _and_ give you a matching scar?" He took the last step towards her, and she shifted her feet, getting ready to do him in like she'd done the last soldier who'd threatened her.

Then her eyes flickered towards the entrance for a moment, and she relaxed slightly, and almost smiled. "I don't think so, Jimmy."

He started to scoff, reaching for her again, when from behind him came another voice, hard and intense. _"Jimmy!"_

He reacted instantly, as a street rat would, whirling around only to stop dead, goggling.

Rose Tyler stood in the doorway, her watch dangling from one finger as she held the General's pistol in both hands, aiming it straight at Jimmy Stones' black heart.

The pistol roared.

The impact threw Stones hard against the wall where he hung for a moment, gaping at the girl he thought he'd utterly cowed years before. His knees slowly buckled, and he slid down the wall and sat, hard. His gun had gone flying from his hand and skidded, clattering, across the stone floor.

Rose took three long strides halfway across the room and stopped, making sure she had his attention. _"That was for Mum,"_ she told him, her voice raw and ragged.

And then, _"And this is for me!"_ And the pistol roared again.

His body jerked once as the second bullet hit his chest – and it was all over. Jimmy Stones was dead.

Shuddering, gasping, Rose slowly lowered the gun – and suddenly Pete was there beside her, taking the pistol from her nerveless fingers. She wrenched her eyes away from the bloody heap to her father's face and whimpered, "Daddy?"

"Oh, baby!" And he gathered up his soul-wounded child and held her close.


	19. Fare Thee Well

**Fare Thee Well**

Rose turned and shared a long look with Jared, _So much killing..._ The two shots seemed to keep echoing between the crypt's walls again and again, digging deeply down into each of their psyches.

Suddenly Rose realized her _ears_ weren't ringing.

Her _mobile_ was.

She stabbed the answer button with her finger. "Control? Danny?" She gasped through joyful, relieved prickling tears. "Where have you _been? …_ Yeah, I know this rift's collapsing. We only just got to the source. What's that? … Hang on - " Sudden concern crossing her face, she turned on the phone's speakers and held it out so the others could hear. "Say that again, Danny?"

"_There's some other signal coming from your location. It's not interfering, but you should be aware of it. It looks like some kind of homing signal."_

Jared whipped out his sonic screwdriver and began scanning the room, quickly swiveling and homing in on the local Rose's pocket. She reached a shaking hand inside and pulled out a small jewelry box, holding it out for his scan. At his nod, her face crumpled in teary agony again, staggered by this latest betrayal. Jared lightly picked the box from her fingers and opened it, pausing to shoot her an empathetic, sorrowed look at the sight of the diamond ring nestled within, then he gently pulled it and the cardboard insert out and put them inside the lid. Underneath was a tiny insectoid bit of electronics. Pete reached over and scraped it out, then dropped it onto the floor and smashed it with a bootheel.

Silence reigned between the five fugitives for several long seconds, while Jared delicately replaced the insert and the ring, closed the box back up, and offered it awkwardly to its apparent owner.

Tears streaming, she stared at it for a moment, then suddenly grabbed it, whirled, and flung it as hard as she could into the corner of the crypt. "You _bastard!"_ It was the mark of how far she'd come that the idea she might have carried it knowingly never crossed anyone else's mind.

Pete took a deep breath and tried to begin moving forward again. "They won't be far. We've all got to get out of here. You guys first."

His daughter's twin looked solemnly at her father's mirror image. "Pete? Last chance to change your mind. Come with us. Both of you."

It was obviously a conversation they'd had before – probably the last time she'd been there. They could tell he was tempted. His daughter turned back to catch his eye, and – swallowing her grieved betrayal – gave a tiny shrug: his decision. He turned the other way and gave Jackie a long, yearning look, then sadly shook his head, telling her, "You've already got a Pete. And a Rose. No. Besides, this is our world. And we're gonna keep fighting for it, till it's the world it should be. Till we get it right."

He glanced again at his daughter, and she nodded, slipping her hand into his, a bit of pride creeping onto her features. Her twin hesitated, then nodded too, understanding. She asked for the two transport disks, and the local Rose and Jared pulled them out and handed them to her. Quickly inspecting them, she discovered Jared's was recharged, but Rose's was still offline from her recent use of it, and she turned away to negotiate methods with Control.

Jackie took the opportunity to step across to Pete, and pulled him into a tight, lingering embrace. "You're a _good_ man, Pete Tyler, in _any_ universe," she whispered into his ear. "And I love you, just as I know your Jackie must have done, so much."

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, he whispered back, "And I love you, Jacks. Both of you. And thank you... thank you for coming here, and giving me a chance to say goodbye to her, through you." Quickly shifting his head, not giving either of them a chance to duck, he gave her a long, last kiss, managing to pour all his love into it underneath the flavor of finality. As it ended, they looked into each other's eyes and smiled, then dropped their arms and stepped back. There was nothing more to say.

Then she turned to his daughter, and pulled her into a hug, as well. "And as for _you,_ young lady," she began, attempting a scolding tone and failing miserably. "You straighten up, you hear me? And start living right. And take care of your father."

"I will... Jackie." She couldn't quite call her Mum. Giving each other a final squeeze, they likewise dropped their arms, as Pete and Jared shared a final handshake.

Rose turned back to the group then, a satisfied grin splitting her face. "Here," she said, surprising all of them by handing Jared's recharged disk to Pete. "Control can't see all the way to America through this collapsing rift, but they can get you to Ireland with this. It'll drop you somewhere in the countryside, away from Dublin. Can you get safely on from there?"

Pete stared, then an answering grin shone. "Oh, you bet!"

"Then hang on to each other. This is going to feel _really_ strange, but it'll be over in less than a second. Good luck!"

Pete wasn't going to let her get away with that, though. "Take care, Ulva."

"You too, Red Wolf." The two Roses gazed at each other, still uncertain how to react, then they simply smiled and nodded.

The three visitors stepped back away from Pete and his Rose, who took each other's hand and held on tight. "Punch it, Control!" An ethereal light made a brief dancing, deepening aura all around them, and then they disappeared in a brilliant flash, leaving naught but their afterimage and the smell of ozone.

Jackie suddenly had a frightful thought. "What about us?"

Rose just laughed and held up her mobile. "No disk needed. The circuits are in my phone. You knew that, Mum."

"Right," Jackie shook her head at herself. "Sorry. I forgot."

Jared looked around and spotted Tock, still cowering in a corner, confused by all the noise and lights. Picking the puppy up and cradling him close to his chest, he returned to the other two. "You'll have to hang on to me, I don't have any free hands." So each woman grabbed an arm.

"Ready when you are, Danny!" Rose called out, then dropped the phone – the line still open – into her shirt pocket.

"_Stand by. Ten seconds to reset..."_

Just at that moment, a clatter sounded from the entrance tunnel, and half a dozen German soldiers ran into the chamber and pointed their rifles at the trio. At their head was a trim General with wheat-blonde hair, and "Schultz" on his name tag; on his heels, a sinister (aren't they all?) SS man in black.

The SS man was apparently in charge. His "Halt! Raise your hands!" echoed off the stone walls, while Schultz merely stared silently at Rose.

The pre-transport aura was suddenly on their skin. Even as the SS man shouted orders at his men to aim and fire, Rose raised her one free hand...

... and gave the General, the soldiers, the Reich, and the entire despised world the finger.

Then they, too, disappeared in the piercing white flash, leaving the Germans gaping at their afterimage.


	20. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The SS man slowly turned his head away from the now-empty space and glared at General Schultz. His sub-zero fury should have turned the entire island of Britain to ice.

"You _idiot!"_ he hissed in German, not caring that the men could also hear. "If you hadn't delayed us, we would have captured them all, and taken their transport device for the glory of the Reich!"

Schultz said nothing, staring stonily ahead like a good soldier. The SS man whirled on his heel, ordered the men to search the surrounding hillside, and marched back out behind them without a backward glance at the disgraced General.

When the last sound of their departing feet had died away, a tiny, triumphant smile teased the corners of Schultz's lips, even as his eyelids sank closed, hiding the pain stabbing deep within. A few deep breaths and he opened them again, taking a long, slow, last look around the chamber (and giving the soldiers time to move off in the search). A tiny, dark object in the corner caught his eye, and he moved stiffly over to reach for it, hesitating with a gasp when he realized what it was: the ring box he'd so recently given his Liebchen, both with and against his will. He'd desperately wanted her to have the ring, but despised himself for acquiescing to the SS man's command to include the tracking device in its box.

He made himself pick it up and open it, pausing again at the shaft of ice lancing through his heart at the sight of the ring still within. She hadn't taken it.

Stuffing the box into his pocket again, where he'd carried it for days, he turned at last and marched slowly out the door into the late afternoon sun.

(Karl Schultz never married. But for the remainder of his life, he kept Rose's picture on his dresser, flanked by two white candles, with the ring box open before it like an offering.)

^..^

Jared, Rose, and Jackie staggered a bit as the transport beam released them. _I'm getting better at keeping my feet,_ Rose thought ironically, _now that I'm swearing this off for good._

As their eyes adjusted, a so-familiar voice came from behind Rose. "Oh, _that's_ nice!" All three turned to look: it was Pete, his sarcastic tone matching his wry expression as he grimaced at Rose – whose finger, she only then realized, was still up. Giddy with relief at the so-familiar sight of her stepfather standing just outside the massive mechanical apparatus holding the containment field of the reality cannon, she simply laughed.

"Pete!" Jackie cried, pushing past her daughter to rush to her husband's arms. Little Tony was there, too, clutching his father's knees and trying manfully not to cry, as only a toddler could. She scooped him up, as well, and the three of them huddled close together. Pete began scolding her for following Rose across the worlds. "I know, darling, I know! I promise – I _swear_, I will _never, EVER _do that again! I swear!" was her earnest, heartfelt, tearful reply.

Rose simply stood watching. Tock began whimpering and squirming to get down, so Jared let him go, and the pup gave himself a mighty shake and began happily exploring his new domain.

When they'd turned towards Pete, Jared found himself a pace behind Rose. He stepped up to stand beside her, and reached down to pick up her hand, which turned in his immediately, their fingers twining in their new clasp automatically.

Rose turned her head, facing him squarely, and he gazed solemnly back into her eyes. Deja-vu from the beach at Bad Wolf Bay echoed faintly through both their minds, and each wondered fleetingly at the miles and changes wrought since that moment.

A soft, sun-warm smile crept across Rose's face and echoed in her eyes.

"Welcome home, Blue Wolf," she whispered.


End file.
